


The London Revolt of 1897

by Heubristics



Series: The London Revolt of 1897 [2]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Body Horror, Both Explicit and Implied - Freeform, Don't worry it's not all bad, Down with the Masters, Down with the Traitor Empress, Fallen London Spoilers, Fallen London humor is still present, Gen, Gun Violence, Long live the Worker's Republic of Spitalfields!, Political Revolution, Revolutionaries, Societal Horror, Terrorism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heubristics/pseuds/Heubristics
Summary: July, 1897. Fallen London is a city on the brink of flames. Under the brightness of the gas-lamps, there is a rift in its heart. Every day the Masters extend their grip over the city. Every night more Londoners slip through their talons. The streets simmer with discontent and agitation. There is a tension in the air, and mutters of sedition on the breeze. This state of affairs cannot last forever; something must happen. And soon.This story chronicles the London Revolt of 1897: an event where, in the midst of London's fourth Mayoral election during one of the hottest false-summers on record, Londoners rose up en masse to throw off the shackles of the Masters and the Bazaar. Though the Worker's Republic of Spitalfields would not survive the summer, its memory represents defiance against the status quo...and the possibility of something different. Here within are reports, personal accounts, and other archived material relating to the Revolt of '97, the people who fought in and witnessed it, and a portrait of the Fifth City in Crisis.





	1. The Wolfstacks Strike Disaster

_“Contrary to popular belief, the Worker’s Republic of Spitalfields and the London Revolt of 1897 did not begin on the 15th of July. It is a tempting date for those who weren’t there to remember, perhaps because it overlaps neatly with the official beginning of the 1897 Mayoral election - a time of political upheaval which in itself intensified the sentiments that led to the Revolt. In fact, the ‘formal’ start of the London Revolt of 1897 would not happen until around the 17th of July, when widespread interconnected incidences of open revolution were first confirmed. Another source of confusion comes from several incidents that occurred in the days before the election, involving violent clashes between constables and London populace that were not directly linked to formal revolutionary goals or actions._

_Something did happen on the 15th of July. The event that incited the event that incited the Revolt: the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster.” - The Long Warm Midnight: The London Revolt of 1897 (Author unknown), Chapter 2_

~~~~~

_Excerpt from oral history interview with the Salt-Scarred Longshoreman, recording courtesy of the Museum of Injustice._

“I think if you ask me what I most remember about Wolfstacks...I’d have to say it was the noise. First you had the ships themselves of course. They’d ring their bells and toot their horns, and you wouldn’t be able to hear anything for a minute afterwards. And then the horns would disturb the zee-bats, and they’d start screeching, and there’d be this godawful screeching and blaring and ringing all at once. You could always tell a veteran zailor from a fresh one, because the veterans were always at least partially deaf. Then there was the machinery. Great big cranes crashing up and down at all hours, moving cargo, and the constant rumbling from the factories. Plus the whistles to let you know when work was starting and stopping. And of course there was also us making noise, because you needed to be loading stout crates of cargo up to the ships and down from the ships and there’d be god knows what in them, and sometimes the cargo would try to escape...so we’d be huffing and puffing and grunting and swearing on top of everything else. I miss the noise the most.

Oh, the strikes! Yes, and them too. Just about every week we’d have them, around Gibbet’s Wharf and the Cold Harbour and so forth. You always knew when there was a strike going on, even if your mates didn’t tell you. We’d be stamping our boots, clapping our hands, shouting at the top of our lungs. And most of the boys and girls on the Docks were just that...boys and girls, no older than their teens. So they’d be restless, full of energy, and just making this big roar. Here, give me a second. (The Longshoreman takes a drink). Okay. So imagine you’re at Wolfstacks, and there’s a hundred of you there, all together with banners and picket signs and placards, and everyone is doing this.

(The Longshoreman begins stomping his feet, clapping, and yelling. Speech is largely vocalizations, with occasional words such as “unionize” and “fair pay” detected)

(The Longshoreman sits back down). We must have looked a sight. (chuckles). And you’d get newcomers to London, just off the boat from the Canal with their fancy clothes and suitcases, and you’d think their eyes would just pop out of their sockets at how wide they were. Maybe they were the reason we got so many sorrow-spiders at Wolfstacks...all those eyes just waiting to be taken. (chuckles). But you know, it was a regular event! We’d get out there behind the picket lines, marching for fair pay and spider-proof clothes and railings so we wouldn’t keep having workers falling into the River and having the Drownies take them...and then well, Mr Fires couldn’t have that, so he’d send the Neddies after us. And there’d be us, with our signs and bricks and muscles from hauling all that cargo, and there’d be them with their padded coats and unpadded clubs. And we’d have at it. 

You know, I think we struck so much we lost the heat after a while. Oh, we’d win some fights here and they’d win some fights there, but nothing changed. The laws never changed, Mr. Fires never listened. And I think a lot of us realized that even if we won a battle, the Masters would just send more after us. So we’d go home and bandage our wounds and realize we had no savings and no job and have to go back to the Docks again. Oh, we tried to help each other, soup kitchens and all of that, but none of us was rich. We’d go back, work for a bit, play nice, but well...things didn’t improve. So we kept striking, but nothing really changed. Other Londoners, they’d come out with...deck chairs and buy ice cream and rubbery lumps from the vendors, and treat us like a sporting event. A sporting event, I tell you. 

Things were changing though. Even before the Disaster, really, it was just the one that finally broke the camel’s back. A lot of us older folks, on both sides, kept dropping out. Permanently killed, or sent to the tomb-colonies. And the new blood that came in, well, they had youth on their side and a chip the size of the world on their shoulders. People got meaner and nastier. Neddies started putting spikes on their clubs and brass knuckles. Some of our boys and girls, they started talking about bringing in guns in return. Bombs. We knocked sense into their heads when we heard it, of course, but can’t stop people from talking. 

I still don’t believe it was anyone on the striker’s side that caused the Disaster, though. We didn’t have anyone like that on our side, the kind of person that’d be so cold-blooded they’d bomb their own people. You ask me, it was the Neddy Men. They’d been wanting to do something about us for a long time, and what better way to do it than what happened? They kill us (the Longshoreman coughs), no, they massacre us and what happens? They blame us! They say we would slaughter our own for… (the Longshoreman says something unintelligible here)? For a quarter-pence more per day? Those (the Longshoreman says several impolite words in rapid succession here)!

Anyways, yes, the Strike. I suppose you were wanting to know about...all that. Well, it’s a...it was a tragedy, and there’s no getting around that. And it led to a whole lot of trouble, in the end. But at the time, we didn’t know any of that. 

It started on the afternoon of the 14th. It was hot, hotter than (the Longshoreman gives an impolite metaphor relating to Sinning Jenny and a chandlery here). We were sweating and swearing and grumbling about the heat, because if we stopped we might start sneezing. The spores were so thick, it was like we were swimming in Greyfields. So we weren’t in a good mood as you can well imagine. And then we get news as to a ship pulling into the harbour that needs unloading, destined straight for the Labyrinth of Tigers. Now the thing to realize is, when a ship comes in with cargo for the Labyrinth of Tigers, you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance. Fifty chance its just going to be a tiger, and you can tell because the ship will be fancy. But if a ship’s all beat to hell and back like Storm was on its tail, and you can hear gnashing and growling and sounds of monsters rattling their cages...well, that’s the other fifty.

So us Dockers are waiting for the ship to arrive, right near the Cold Harbour. And unfortunately for us, we could see right away it was the other fifty. A Ligeia-class steamer, “Auntie’s Pride” it was. That was a bad sign, it was. The kind of ship a green landlubber gives their first ship. The second bad sign was that it was quiet. Too quiet. 

(The Longshoreman takes a drink). Turns out it was sorrow-spiders...worse actually. Blemmigans riding on sorrow-spiders, pouring out the hull and coming down the ramps like a tide of green and purple. The poor fool must have gone too far east, and brought infestations back with them. They probably died, but we were the ones stuck with the damn things. Spiders leaping out at Dockers and blemmigans trying to bite us to death. No casualties, but we were all putting bandages on that evening. And when it turns out the Ministry Agents had just let it on through, no word of warning or anything? Well, that was the last straw. Some of the lads and lasses got together, starting talking about safety and rights. Decided on a strike the next day.

Well, that led to what happened on the 15th. We got the banners, the signs, the placards, the usual. Some of the younger workers got socks with bricks in them, cricket bats, marsh-wolves, that sort of thing. We show up, we refuse to work, we talk about our grievances. Had to deal with a few campaigners showing up and trying to get us to stop in the name of Mrs. Plenty, she was one of the Mayoral candidates at the time and the election had just started...and then we see the Neddies start to show up.

Oh, they were looking for a fight. And we gave it to them. I think we probably could have held our own that day, what with how mad we were from the bites and the heat and all. 

But the Disaster happened. It all floated straight to Hell, then."

~~~~~

_Excerpt from after-report with the Ambivalent Bruiser, recording courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History._

"I was with the Flowerdene Boys during [the 15th of July’s] strike, first response enforcement. We came west from Gibbet’s Wharf, with orders to get hooked up with the other enforcement groups and contain the strikers by any means necessary. It was made clear to us that we were to contain, not to fight. Our job was to make sure the dockworkers didn’t try destroying industrial or private property, attack industrial or private personnel, or interfere with the importation of Clay Men reserve labour. If they did start something, well, we got to step in and stop them. I’d run with the Flowerdene Boys before, so I knew the usual drill. I got my stick, my uniform, and my permit.

I wasn’t too worried. Dockworkers don’t got too many guts for fighting, it’s the zailors you want to watch out for. But since we weren’t going after the zailors, there shouldn’t be any trouble. Some of the others were worried though. We’d heard rumors the dockers were packing guns, dynamite, and trained marsh-wolves. Didn’t like our odds of containing them with sticks in that case, so just in case I brought my da’s old war pistol. That’s why it’s in my suit, by the way. But I never fired it. You can check it if you want to confirm. Also why I put those lead strips around my neddy stick. Won’t stick them like spikes will, but it gives them a nasty wallop. Deterrence.

I got the initial call in the morning, and I met up with the Flowerdene Boys at about half-past noon; I remember they were blowing the lunch whistles at the factories as I was walking over, and the end of lunch whistles as I was joining up with the others. We met up with the other groups shortly after that, and then we all marched together toward the strike. Didn’t take too long. I mostly remember the weather was bad, though. Hot as an oven, worse under the padding. Was sweating like (Censored for Public Decency: vulgarity involving a Drownie and pagan sexual acts). At least the suit was padded when it came to fighting. 

They were staring at us and we were staring at them for a long time. That’s what most of these strikes amount to, honestly. They weren’t destroying anything or attacking anyone as far as we knew, so we weren’t gonna risk going in and shutting them down. They mostly just waved their signs at us and called us names. Lapdogs, knobsticks, scabs, that kind of thing. Sometimes worse names. Some of the others yelled back. Nothing real bad, just small taunts. Parasites, leeches, dirty dockscum, stuff like that. We weren’t going over there unless something went down, so not like there was any other way to ease the tension.

Well, we wait for a while and then finally we get word that it’s time to go in. Destruction of property I guess, we never really got told what was destroyed but it didn’t matter. The strikers were getting rowdy anyways, so we went in to disperse them. And it goes how it usually goes with these sorts of things. We go with the sticks, they come back with the bricks. We rush the lines, they throw us back, some of us slip through and take them from behind. Enough of us rush the lines and slip through, we break the lines, and things descend into a brawl. One of them tries to bust my shins with a reinforced cricket bat, I bust their head with a reinforced club. These are just things that happen at these strikes.

Yeah, I saw the explosion. Knocked me out my (Censored for Public Decency) boots when it happened. One moment I’m swinging at some Longshoreman, and the next minute there’s this blinding light in my left eye, there’s this intense hot wind, and everything goes silent. Only the reason everything goes silent is because my eardrums are busted and bleeding. 

We all get up, and none of us know what’s going on. There’s Flowerdene Boys and dockworks getting up and staggering all over the place, except I can’t see anything now too because there’s smoke coming in. I don’t know whether the Sun’s come back to London or someone opened a bad mirrorbox or what. I see this dockworker on the streets, slumped against the barricades, and she’s not moving. Her skin is black, burnt, in that way that lets you know she’s not coming back. It was about that time I decide it’s probably best to retreat and regroup from whatever happened. So I left pretty quick after that.

I still don’t know what happened. Far as I can tell, one of the dockworker’s decided to go big for once and tried to bring a bomb or something, and it blew up right in their face. Thing about the Neddy Men and what we do is, we may not always do nice things but we do them openly. We don’t go trucking around with bombs when our job is literally to hit people with sticks.

I hope they catch whoever did it, though. Some good agents lost their lives today. And they blew some of their own up, too. You can’t trust people who are willing to blow their own people up just to spite their enemies."

~~~~~

_“At approximately 1:35pm, an explosive incendiary device of unknown make and origin was detonated in the middle of a melee confrontation between strikers and Neddy enforcers at Cold Harbour. While previous strikes had resulted in incidents of nonlethal and temporarily lethal violence, the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster ended with a permanent death toll of thirty-three people (seven Neddies and nine dockworkers in the initial blast, four Neddies and seven dockworkers from severe burns sustained by the detonation, and two Neddies and four dockworkers from injuries inflicted by other parties in the aftermath) as well as numerous temporary deaths and multiple emigrants to the tomb-colonies - one of the highest death tolls from a strike in the history of Fallen London._

_In the aftermath of the immediate detonation, the shock caused a temporary halt to the strike as both Neddy forces and dockworkers became disorganized. Initial reports indicated attempts to drag away the wounded and the dead from the scene, with fights resuming when opposing parties stumbled across each other in the process of retrieving their fallen. Visibility at this time was reported to be extremely low, with the spore-laden air of false summer mingling with the smoke from the detonation. Following initial fighting, the strike devolved into a riot as Neddy enforcement parties regrouped and began to hunt down members of the strike with lethal intent, apparently believing them to have been the source of the explosion. Individual dockworkers retaliated in kind, under the impression the Neddy Men had been responsibility for the explosion. Both sides have consistently denied awareness or responsibility for the device, and no group has ever publicly stepped forward to claim ownership or responsibility for its activation._

_While some dockworkers stayed to fight with the Neddy Men, more fled the aftermath - perhaps anticipating the possibility of more bombings. At approximately 3:30pm, two hours after the initial detonation, Neddy enforcers had regrouped to an extent where they in combination with London constabulary forces were able to secure and contain Wolfstacks and officially declared an end to the strike. They subsequently declared the detonation an act of terrorism by revolutionary agents within the strike, and the London Constabulary put out a city-wide arrest order for those identified or suspected to be strike organizers._

_Most of those who had been organizers with the strike, or strikes in the past, disappeared within the hidden areas of the city to hide. One of these areas included the depths of Bugsby’s Marsh, where several dockworkers and organizers had fled to via steam-launch at the very end of the strike. This group is notable because, while the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster prompted outrage and inflamed tensions across the city, their actions would be the next spark to light revolt. Near midnight of the 15th, the group of seven people made their way from the Marsh to the Medusa’s Head, where they had planned to sleep overnight before making their way to more urban, safe hide-outs. An anonymous tip to the Constabulary however, would out them. In the early morning of the 16th, a force of constables would arrive in Watchmaker’s Hill to arrest the group for sedition and mass murder. The result would be the Siege of the Medusa’s Head.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 2_


	2. The Siege of the Medusa's Head

_“If the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster was the event that inflamed the revolutionary tensions present in London, the Siege of the Medusa’s Head was the event that galvanized the assorted revolutionary groups of London into open action. Lasting a little under nine hours and resulting in the rout of the constables sent to retrieve the seven strikers barricaded in the pub, the Siege represented the first defeat of London’s authorities in containment following the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster. It was also marked the first incident following the Disaster where an organized revolutionary group openly participated. This would set a precedent for the riots and incidents to come._

_The seven dockworkers and strike organizers who had been involved in the Wolfstacks Docks Disaster, and had fled to the Marshes and then the Medusa’s Head, were aware of what was waiting for them outside the pub. Realizing the constables were preparing to arrest and charge them for a horrific crime involving the death of their fellow strikers, a crime that they believed was caused by the Neddy Men, the dockworkers resisted arrest. By taking the landlord hostage (the landlord claims he was locked in his room during the events of the Siege) and appealing to the sympathies of the other bar patrons (many of whom either were or knew dockworkers themselves), they erected barricades in front of the doors and windows of the pub and spread out to defend the building against intrusion. Thus began the Siege of the Medusa’s Head.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 2_

~~~~~

_Excerpt from after-report with the Resolute Constable, recording courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History._

“When the briefing first came in, we had no reason to suspect that the situation would turn out as it did. Watchmaker’s Hill is a rough beat, and the Medusa’s Head produces its fair share of trouble regularly, but it doesn’t come close to the Docks or Spite. The landlord has an...agreement, you see, with a lot of the folks around that area. They don’t permit funny business what doesn’t go through them first. So we get the usual riff-raff, the drunks, the hunters gone a bit too far funny in the Marsh, but nothing real bad. Certainly nothing at eight in the morning, which is when we arrived at the Medusa’s Head. We got a tip-off some of the organizers in that strike had been spotted and holed up. Our job was to get them out.

We got the briefing at seven and arrived at eight, give or take a few minutes. Commandeered a bakery and butcher’s shop across the street and set up our station there. There were twelve of us as the main force, two lookouts with rifles on the roofs either side in case the suspects started trying anything funny, and a negotiator spearheading the whole thing. Their job was to get those seven people holed up in there out of their own accord. If the negotiator’s words didn’t take, well, that’s where we came in. 

The negotiator started with the usual spiel, the one about wanting to come to a peaceful resolution and seeing that no one got hurt, especially innocents. The suspects weren’t having any of it though. Occasionally we could hear one shouting from around a window - never in front of one, they were probably afraid we’d try to plug them - about refusing to take the blame for a massacre the Neddies did to them. Some of the patrons were cheering after they said that. So after about, oh, half an hour or so we decided it was our turn to come in.

We had the lookout spot for us, just in case the suspects decided to shoot back, and went in split teams: eight of us went straight across the street for the front door, real obvious. The other four slipped out the back and took the side alleys behind our shop, across the road,and into the alley behind the pub. The idea was we’d be the main force, and if we could get in so much the better. The side force, meanwhile, would come in through the kitchen. Truncheons only for the most part, though Constable Wilkins was allowed to have a shotgun with glim-salt powder for deterrence. 

Well, you know by now how that worked out. We got to the front door, I think they knew some of the lasses and lads were coming round the back so weren’t paying much attention to us, but it was barred nice and tight. We tried smashing one of the windows, but they’d stacked crates and tables up so high there was no shifting it. The force round the back almost managed to get in, until they had about seven or so sorrow-spiders dropped on their heads from the upstairs. Not big ones, only about the size of rats, but bad enough that while they were protecting their eyes the suspects could start dropping larger objects.

So we retreated back, licked our wounds, called in for backup and a copper Clay Man. Let the negotiator come up again and try getting them out, only even then we had the feeling it wasn’t going to be as good now failed to bust in the hard way. So we waited for reinforcements, and then we tried again about a half-hour later, after we got the Clay Man and six more constables to help us out. 

Well, that didn’t work out too well either, cause then they started dropping chairs on us and tables on the Clay Man. We weren’t too interested in getting our heads smashed in by furniture just to try and get in the door, much less furniture that touched the floor of the Medusa’s Head, so we retreated again and called in for more backup.

That’s pretty much how the entire morning went.”

~~~~~

_“As morning passed into afternoon, both constables outside and patrons inside the Medusa’s Head realized that this would be no quick siege. The landlord of the Medusa’s Head was formally considered to be held hostage and incapable of opposing the besieged dockworkers, and the sympathies of bar patrons and their assistance in barricading entry points along with defensive fire from the dockworkers made gaining entry into the pub a difficult task. The formation of a crowd on the streets surrounding the pub, including reporters, made less tactful means of gaining entry a practical impossibility. A proposal to gain entry via explosive detonation at the front doors, for example, was considered but ultimately unused. This plan would have likely resulted in a successful breach had it been implemented, but was rejected on the basis of looking too similar to the Wolfstacks Disaster: the sight of the constables setting off a bomb against the strikers would have almost certainly swayed public blame toward the Neddy Men._

_The majority of the Siege followed a consistent pattern of action and reaction. A typical engagement began with attempted negotiations between the constables and the dockworkers, with different tactics including offers of compromise, appeals to morality, offers to bring in family and friends to negotiate, derision at the futility of their resistance, and toward the later hours of the Siege threats of violence. As the dockworkers would inevitably refuse these negotiations, the constables would proceed to attempt to take the pub by force: lookouts would set up overwatch positions while a force of main officers advanced toward the doors. This would, in turn, be met by retaliation by the dockworkers and, later in the Siege, sympathetic patrons within the Medusa’s Head. Means of retaliation varied, but was initially limited to reinforcing interior barricades and throwing improvised weapons (including beer bottles, beer steins, bar stools, and stray sorrow-spiders) at advancing constables. As the Siege intensified and police marksmen began to fire at the dockers when they saw them at the windows, the besieged dockworkers turned to more extreme means, including return fire by way of volunteered hunting rifles and once an accidental incendiary grenade (when a bottle with traces of fungal beer still present landed upon an officer in the process of lighting a cigar). This would cause the constables to retreat, at which point the dockworkers would rebuild the barricades and the constables would plan out their next advance._

_As the Siege advanced into its later hours, and onlooking crowds began to overwhelm the streets around the Medusa’s Head, forces from other authorities in the city were called in to support the constables already present. These included members of the Velocipede Squad and eventually even the black wagons of the Special Constables. The combined weight of these forces threatened to overwhelm the dockworkers besieged inside the Medusa’s Head: constable marksmen stationed on the nearby rooftops shot at them whenever they passed the windows, Velocipede Squad members kept sympathetic members of the crowd from getting in to offer supplies or reinforcements, and the acid-spraying hoses of the Special Constable’s wagons proved just as effective at breaking down barricades as they did scouring forbidden graffiti from the city’s walls._

_Inside the Medusa’s Head itself, morale was also a concern. The men, women, and assorted peoples inside the bar had been effectively trapped inside as well for most of the day. Some of them faced the prospect of missing an entire day’s worth of wages, while others were unable to communicate with their families outside the pub. This was further compounded by the relative lack of food inside the bar: without anything to eat and plenty to drink, the patrons inside the besieged pub were steadily getting both hungrier and drunker. The Siege had lasted almost nine hours, but there was little hope that the dockworkers inside would be able to hide for much longer._

_The Constables and Special Constables together arranged for one last massive push. Two columns of constables flanked one of the mighty acid pump wagons of the Special Constables, while velocipede units circled the flanks to catch any trying to escape. Canine handlers were sent to secure both the alleyways and the crowds, while rooftop snipers observed from above._

_The salvation of the Medusa’s Head Seven came from an unexpected quarter: an ambush from the sign-bearing and map-waving revolutionary group known as the Waterhouse Radicals.”_

~~~~~

**Group of Interest: Waterhouse Campaigners For An Independent London**

_Information verified with assistance from individual group members and the Registry of Incorporated Revolutionary Groups V-#, courtesy of the London Municipal Counter-Government_

The original Waterhouse Society was a clandestine revolutionary group dedicated to the city of London; more specifically, the memory of Pre-Fall London. They saw injustice in the crooked streets and changed names of London’s districts, and engaged in several campaigns to create awareness of Pre-Fall London in the public consciousness before their mass arrest by the authorities for illicit collection and distribution of contraband (specifically, Pre-Fall street signs). The Waterhouse Campaigners For An Independent London, more commonly shortened to the Waterhouse Radicals, are a radicalized splinter sect of said Society. Emergent after the mass arrests of the more moderate leadership, the Waterhouse Radicals advocate for direct action and a more forceful approach to restoring “True London” than their predecessors. 

Organizationally, the Waterhouse Radicals are typical of an independent London revolutionary movement: they count no more than 20-30 individuals within their group, loosely divided into a series of small cells organized around a central leadership committee. While they have no formal alliances with larger revolutionary or criminal networks such as the Calendar Council, individual members have been known to consort with revolutionaries from other groups in neutral affiliated locations. Tactically, they display a preference for vandalism and guerrilla civic installations: graffitiing the names of old streets on alleyways and buildings, defacing Post-Fall structures, and constructing illegal guide-markers using contraband Pre-Fall street signs. When pushed into confrontation with the city’s modern authorities, however, they also display a willingness toward violence with improvised shivs and shields made from said street signs...as well as less thematic weapons.

Their main symbol is the City of London itself: they make their flags out of copies of Pre-Fall London maps, and often leave them behind to try and spread them to the general public. They are also prone to chalking variations of the city’s flag on walls and buildings.

In recent events, members of a Waterhouse Radicals cell were involved in the Siege of the Medusa’s Head during the Revolt of 1897. 

~~~~~

_Excerpt from interview of the Opportunistic Costermonger by C. Huffam, Unexpurgated Gazette, July 17th 1897_

Huffam: Could you tell us more about the arrival of the revolutionary group? The...Waterhouse Campaigners for an-

Opportunistic Costermonger: Radicals. Waterhouse Radicals. The ones that put up the street signs with weird names, those people.

Huffam: ...Yes, the Waterhouse Radicals. You said they arrived just after the Constables began to bring everyone they had against the establishment?

OC: That’s right, mister. I’d just run out of puffball creams and was about to tell my associate to get some more when it happened. The big wagon was rolling toward the pub surrounded on all sides by bobbies, the bobbies on the roof were shooting at the dockers in the bar and the dockers were shooting back, some of the urchins were running out and trying to get stray bullets and the like for souvenirs, and then all of a sudden we hear this shouting from the alleyway behind the shop the bobbies took over. Couldn’t really hear it because of the noise and me trying to keep the crowd from overwhelming the cart, but one of my mates said it was the Radicals yelling about freeing London and something about an island of dogs. Then we started hearing shooting from the same direction, and everyone heard that.

Huffam: Were you aware of the source of the shooting?

OC: Not really. I was more focused on the cart and not getting crushed. There were a lot of people there to see the showdown.

Huffam: Do you think it was the revolutionaries or the constables who fired first?

OC: Doesn’t really matter, does it? Everyone was on edge that day. The bobbies didn’t like all the eyes on them and they really didn’t like that they kept getting pushed back by seven dockers and a bar full of hunters. Revs already take to bobbies like cats take to snakes. And Wolfstacks got everyone mad, not to mention the heat wave wasn’t helping. It was down to whoever saw the other first, I reckon.

Huffam: I see...so, what happened after that?

OC: Well, the crowd started panicking, that’s for damn certain. I had my associate climb on the cart and was busy getting it out the way for most of it, because I didn’t want either him or me to get trampled. But there was gunfire going off, and shouts from the bobbies and the revs both, and the dockers had to be confused at everything that was going down. The wagon had stopped because the bobbies were turning back to see what was going on, and the rooftops bobbie was falling off the roof with his head falling off-

Huffam: Excuse me, _falling off_?

OC: Yeah. First of the revs I saw in the whole mess, actually. One moment he’s up there trying to figure out what’s going down below him, the next thing a woman like one of Mr Wine’s girls comes round the chimney with a street sign in her hands and swings the edge right at him. Went clean through, like she was chopping up a chicken. Marylebone, I think the sign said.

Huffam: Oh my.

OC: Shortly after that, the rest of them come bursting out of the shops. They’re waving signs and hammers and pistols and yelling about remembering Greenwich, a few of them are waving flags with that map of Old London on it. 

Huffam: How were you able to tell they were Old London maps?

OC: It looked like a map of London but different. Don’t try tricky questions with me mister, I don’t truck with revolutionaries. Do you want to hear about what happened next or not?

Huffam: Of course. My apologies for the question, mx, I meant no offense. Please go on.

OC: Right. So as I was saying, the revolutionaries are storming out of the shops, and they’re on a righteous fury. And the dockers in the pub are surprised, but they’re still trying to keep the bobbies out so they’re still throwing bottles and spiders and loose bricks and whatever they can get their hands on. And the others inside are getting even more antsy, so half of them have decided to try their luck and are doing the same thing, taking potshots at the big wagon. And the bobbies are caught in the middle of this, and they’re getting from both sides. But then, something else happens…

Huffam: Please, go on.

OC: The Radicals bring out their Clay Man.

Huffam: Their Clay Man.

OC: Well, _a_ Clay Man at the least. Maybe he was theirs or maybe he was ‘free’, you know how the revs get about those kinds of thing. Anyways, imagine this Clay Man, over two meters tall, crashing through the shop and walloping bobbies. And all the time, he’s covered in street signs, like an old time knight. But more civic, I guess.

OC: Yeah, I know. But I saw it myself, and my associate and mates did too. The Clay Man is shrugging off small arms fire from the bobbies lucky enough to have pistols and the ones that don’t are just trying to stay out of the way as he wades through them, while also dealing with the revs currently trying to smash their brains in or cut them off. The crowd is also getting in a panic too, and me and my associate are booking it out there as fast as we can. Last thing I see of the whole riot is the Clay Man walking right up to the Special Constable wagon and ripping its hose off with one hand. Acid dripping down the big Brick Lane sign on his chest and all, its not even phasing him.

Huffam: Given both the Wolfstacks Disaster and the incident at the Medusa’s Head that happened today, what thoughts do you have about the tensions present in the city recently over the status quo in London today? 

OC: Honestly mister, I think there’s fires a-coming. Election season is bad enough as is, but this is making it worse. If customers aren’t talking about Virginia’s candidacy status or the Plenty-Shoshona circus at the carnival, they’re talking about Wolfstacks and past incidents. A lot of them are mad about all kinds of things right now. A lot of them. People are taking to the streets now for the election, and the bobbies are trying to keep it from getting too chaotic, but what’s it going to say when the bobbies couldn’t handle what happened today? 

Huffam: Alright. Thank you for your time, mx. And one last question, if I could.

OC: Go ahead.

Huffam: In your opinion, if you had to attend a diplomatic party for the Khan and his court with one of the candidates, who would it be?

OC: Sinning Jenny, that’s who. She was the only mayor who didn’t treat this whole thing as the joke it is, and bless her heart for it. Plus one look at her legs in those red stockings would probably get the Khan to see just how good London can be, and maybe then his ships will stop attacking my suppliers on their way back from the Melting Isles. 

~~~~~

_“The organizers and strikers of the Medusa’s Head, in combination with the Waterhouse Radicals, had done the impossible: they had not only resisted but successfully driven out the Constables (even Special Constables) from the streets around the Medusa’s Head with nothing more than seven dockworker, a band of revolutionaries, and the element of surprise. The Siege of the Medusa’s Head had been won._

_It must be noted that the victory of the strike organizers was more symbolic than literal. They were aware they had only temporarily driven off the authorities of London, and only then due to luck and surprise reinforcement. Similarly, they had defended the Medusa’s Head at the expense of great damage to its exterior and parts of the interior; the landlord would later charge them with the bill for damages, a bankrupting cost that would have ruined them had not other leading figures in the Revolt stepped in to pay it off later. For several days after the Siege they were kept in the Medusa’s Head as a combination of patron, employee, refugee, and prisoner._

_But it was still a victory. And it would prove to be, in hindsight, the first battle of the Revolt of 1897. News of the Siege and its outcome traveled quickly: the bat flocks across London were especially agitated that night. The next morning, every newspaper in London featured, in some way, a story relating to the Siege. Every half-way organized group of revolutionaries in London was aware of the Waterhouse Radicals’ intervention and the difference it made. And citizens all across London, the Wolfstacks Strike Disaster fresh in their mind, learned about how the constables had attempted to lay siege to a pub with snipers and heavy weapons in order to arrest a mere seven strikers. And how they failed._

_The next few days would mark the beginning of the Revolt of ‘97: a period of time known as the Disturbance.”_


	3. "All Of London Is In Flames"

_ The following reports represent a portion of the communications sent to Concord Square via messenger-bat from patrol and response constables over the course of July 17th, during the early period of the Disturbance. These reports help demonstrate the speed at which small acts of resistance grew to widespread riots and uprisings, as well as the constable’s lack of ability to adequately respond to or quell the sheer number of incidents. Reports provided courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History.  _

**Constable Singh, Ladybones Division, 07:08 -** Disorderly behavior near Hangman’s Arch, several individuals, attempted assault on mounted unit with rocks: arrest in progress, request wagon for drunk tank.

**Constable Lindly, Spite Division, 07:35 -** Duel in progress near Blythenhale, appears to be politically motivated, arrest in progress

**Constable Prestle, Takepenny Division, 08:02 -** Suspicious object, likely bomb found at coffee shop on Bad Monkey Row, securing perimeter, requesting Clay Man backup for extraction/controlled detonation

**Constable McDougal, Palace Division, 08:24 -** Unauthorized suffragist march in front of Shuttered Palace gates, suspects resisting orders to disperse, preparing to arrest

**Constable Dorset, Wolfstacks Division, 09:00 -** Crowd forming at site of Wolfstacks Disaster, growing agitation, request barricades + neddy support to contain

**Constable Kleizer, Spite Division, 09:31 -** Riot forming in Smashtile Alley, shop owners report looting, barricades + foot backup requested

**Constable Singh, Ladybones Division, 09:57 -** Unauthorized political march in progress on Moloch Street toward Brass Embassy, requesting barricades + foot backup to secure area

**Constable Wiltshire, Watchmaker Division, 10:12 -** Unruly crowd forming along Labyrinth Ridge, requesting foot backup plus defensive barricades to control

**Constable Pennyson, Greenbottle Division, 10:27 -** Gang war in intersection of Alley Alley/Blue Ghost Street preventing backup to handle mob at Greenbottle Market, requesting permission to deploy anti-urchin tactics 

**Constable Lukas, Southwark Division, 10:39 -** Barricades finished deploying around Bazaar, Special Constables inbound to reinforce

**Constable Singh, Ladybones Division, 11:00 -** Shots fired in Jekyll Gardens, officer down, shooter or group of shooters appears to be using roofs for cover; requesting medical assistance + aerial backup

**Constable Dorset, Wolfstacks Division, 11:09 -** Unknown ships reinforcing riot in Cold Harbour, barricades holding, requesting naval backup; be advised, unknown ships may have weapons

**Constable Wiltshire, Watchmaker Division, 11:33 -** Mob overrunning barricades along Labyrinth Ridge, requesting mounted + foot backup to control

**Constable Able, Ladybones Division, 12:01 -** Explosion on Kidderghast Lane, confirm reports of fires in numerous buildings, looting, rioting; backup + fire crew requested

**Special Constable Hoyle, Public Decency, 12:34 -** Special Constable requesting backup for hansom containing senior Ministry official, currently surrounded by mob near Dante’s Grill, make highest priority for officers in local division

**Constable Prestle, Takepenny Division, 12:43 -** Large group of revolutionaries with bat, rat support supporting riot on Takepenny Street, leader identifying self as ‘Bishop of Prickfinger’, requesting marksman units + LB units to handle

**Constable Bradshaw, Central Division, 12:58 -** Requesting additional barricades around Concord Station + velocipede units to establish safe routes for backup; mobs are preventing constables from being able to reinforce positions 

**Constable Glaugh, Wilmot Division, 13:04 -** We have reports of devils fighting Foreign Office agents near Wilmot’s End, goat demons with firearms in support, all units be advised to exercise extreme caution around the area 

**Constable Wiltshire, Watchmaker Division, 13:24 -** Requesting mounted + foot + neddy units to retake barricades along Labyrinth Ridge; be advised rioters have looted constable equipment, may try to ambush, notify backup coming in

**Constable McDougal, Palace Division, 13:42 -** Palace barricades holding steady, requesting escort for the Captivating Princess; she wants to ‘enjoy the holiday celebrations’

**Constable Lukas, Southwark Division, 14:00 -** Reporting shelling/artillery fire against the Bazaar, appears to be from mortars somewhere in the Forgotten Quarter, requesting immediate raid unit to the Quarter

**Constable Cleary, Watchmaker Division, 14:11 -** Several police ships on fire in the River, suspect Drownie involvement, fire crew requested 

**Constable Kleizer, Spite Division, 14:41 -** Multiple units under fire near Spite, Blythenhale, Flowerdene, requesting medical assistance; locals appear to be constructing their own barricades

**Constable Nimitz, Fiacre Division, 15:23 -** Riot in progress near Carnival, requesting backup and barricades to contain the flow, owner has given permission to set up command station near House of Mirrors

**Constable Tannerson, Fiacre Division, 15:25 -** Disregard message from Constable Nimitz, breach by Parabolan entities, could see the silver in his eyes; need barricades on Fiacre’s Foot, keep CLEAR of the Carnival, watch for the ones with mirrors 

**Constable Prestle, Takepenny Division, 15:40 -** Reporting a swarm of rats pouring through Screwtape Street, LBs and venge-rats both involved; appear to be rioting, coming out of the walls, backup requested

**Constable Lindly, Spite Division, 16:18 -** Ambush by active shooters Flitside near Flowerdene on unit, officers down, requesting backup + medical assistance, shooters last seen eating the horses

**Constable Dorset, Wolfstacks Division, 16:25 -** Insurgency in progress near Gibbet’s Wharf, reporting armed shooters, naval support, machinegun emplacement, requesting backup + medical assistance

**Constable Cleary, Watchmaker Division, 16:36 -** Notify all units, we have three confirmed spider-councils and five fungal-monarchs advancing from the Marshes; sorrow-spider swarms, blemmigan swarms spilling out into Watchmakers; may have human revolutionary assistance

**Constable Hafiz, Veilgarden Division, 16:52 -** Unconfirmed reports of giant snakes and monsters in the Veilgarden, confirmed fires and looting, barricades holding; there is a river of honey flowing down here from all the smashed barrels

**Constable Sully, Fiacre Division, 17:13 -** Do we have any anti-air units available? Getting visuals of a...zeppelin, of some kind, supporting riots near Fiacre; current units unable to respond 

**Special Constable Hoyle, Public Decency, 17:30 -** Special Constables requesting additional reinforcements around all Ministry secret police stations, highest priority for units in nearby areas

**Constable Able, Ladybones Division, 17:59 -** Multiple arsons, riots, barricades reported across Ladybones division; regrouping to Hangman’s Arch with other units

**Constable McDougal, Palace Division, 18:10 -** Arson attack on Shuttered Palace, Gardens + Portions of several wings on fire, fire crew + backup requested, arsonists still active

**Constable Dorset, Wolfstacks Division, 18:42 -** Wolfstacks overrun, officers down, retreating back to Central, medical assistance still needed 

**Constable Singh, Ladybones Division, 18:56 -** Barricades breached around Hangman’s Arch, officers down, routes to Central cut off, requesting evacuation

**Constable Wiltshire, Watchmaker Division, 19:12 -** Retreating to Central, reporting miscellaneous fires + riots en route

**Constable Glaugh, Wilmot Division, 19:40 -** All of London is in flames

**Constable Lindly, Spite Division, 19:46 -** Spite overrun, retreat/evacuation not possible yet, currently going to ground in garrisoned rookery, will schedule further reports to maintain contact

**Constable Bradshaw, Central Division, 20:30 -** Requesting double shifts for patrol units around Central Division, possible danger of mob/revolutionary actions over night; this is going to be a long evening

~~~~~

_ A variety of weapons were employed by various civilian and revolutionary groups during the Revolt of 1897. While some groups employed conventional smuggled or commercial weapons, many turned to improvising weapons or personalizing their own. This section showcases several such weapons to demonstrate the ingenuity and sometimes the brutality of London urban warfare. Weapons and descriptions provided courtesy of the Messidorist Panopticon Archives. _

**Beartrap Gauntlet**

This fist weapon recovered from the Gallows Ambush features a foothold trap strapped to a welding gauntlet, one example of a melee weapon used by several revolutionary groups (including the Daughters of Medusa and the Children of the Reckoning) during the Disturbance. Despite the name, most ‘beartrap gauntlets’ used smaller traps originally meant for wolves, boars, and the like. The priming spring is partially bent back along the inner side of the wrist, while the main part of the trap is fixed to keep the trigger pan over the metatarsals of the hand. 

While a closed gauntlet could be used as a bludgeoning device, in its intended use the spring would be forced down and the jaws of the trap pulled back along the arm; after punching an opponent, the force of the blow would send the teeth clamping down with enough force to trap or sever a limb. Although somewhat awkward to wield and not commonly employed as a weapon during the Disturbance, they were noted for being superb shock weapons by the constables that witnessed their effects in battle.

**Street-Sign Glaive**

This polearm consists of an improvised blade made from a contrabrand Pre-Fall street sign (in this particular example, a Fleet Street sign), fixed to a two meter shaft of fungal-wood with cord and spider-silk. Originally used by a member of the Waterhouse Radicals during both the Siege of the Medusa’s Head and during the Disturbance, this specific example also features a red banner reading ‘FOR THE LONDON-THAT-WAS!’ fastened just under the blade. This banner was likely not originally attached during the Siege or Disturbance itself due to restricting movement and sight, but afterwards as a ceremonial symbol.

Polearms such as this glaive and many others like it were very popular during the Disturbance. They could quickly made in large numbers given enough poles, blades, and fastening materials; their long reach meant that they could easily ward off Constables and Neddy Men armed only with truncheons or knives, particularly in close-quarters alley or rookery fighting; and when dug into a line over a barricade, they could serve as an effective means of defense against both food and especially mounted forces.

**Pint of Medusa**

Though they may seem quite ordinary, this set of items - a bottle of Shepherd’s Brown Ale, a bottle of kerosene oil, and a washcloth from the Medusa’s Head - can be combined to produce one of the most feared revolutionary weapons during the Revolt of 1897. By twisting a washrag and soaking it in lamplighter oil, shoving it into a bottle of beer and then lighting the rag on fire before throwing it, any Londoner could quickly and easily create a small incendiary fire bomb that would explode and ignite a surface on contact. First discovered when a bottle of thrown Withern Pale Ale set a Cigar-Chomping Constable on fire during the Siege of the Medusa’s Head, this particular type of throwing device quickly became nicknamed ‘a Pint of Medusa’. 

Pints of Medusa were one of the most widely used incendiary and throwing devices during the Disturbance and the greater Revolt of 1897, by organized revolutionary groups and civilian mobs alike. Many of the dispossessed citizens of London that participated in the Disturbance frequented bars and pubs with easy access to bottles, and lamplighter oil could be obtained from any streetlamp or apiary in the city. To this day, its influence during the Revolt can be observed in the marble statue of the Gorgon herself permanently displayed at the Museum of Injustice: drinking a bottle of Murgatroyd’s Fungal Beer in one hand while preparing to throw a Pint of Medusa in the other. 

**April’s Own Shotgun**

This lever-action shotgun originally belonged to a member of the St Aegidius Liberation Front, and saw use in several events during the Disturbance (including the Hollow Street Rumble and Hood’s Bridge Riot). Damage on the interior of the barrel reveals it was loaded with a mix of black powder and scintillack powder, giving it a kick while dramatically shortening its usable life. On the barrel of the shotgun is engraved a crude depiction of a hooded figure with X’s for eyes (presumably deceased); next to it are etched the words ‘MASTER THIS’. 

While the design is derivative of a Winchester Model 1887, it is almost certainly a knock-off copy as it lacks the manufacturer’s mark, features poorer-quality mechanisms and is made of inferior materials compared to commercial Winchesters. Such home-manufactured guns, based off of smuggled blueprints or legitimate imported copies, are colloquially known as “April’s Own” in the revolutionary underground and were commonly employed throughout the Disturbance. 

**Teeth of Saint Cerise**

This set of knuckledusters originally belonged to a high-ranking Child of the Reckoning and was well-used throughout the Disturbance, as evidenced by the wear on the molars and slight crack on the left upper canine. They are fashioned to appear as a set of human teeth, with the right hand holding the upper half and the left hand the lower half; the main body is solid brass, while the teeth themselves appear to have been formed out of venom-rubies. When set next to each other in the proper configuration, they will clench and grind against each other.

Although most weapons employed by revolutionaries and civilians during the Revolt of 1897 were improvised or relatively normal weapons, some groups and individuals employed fancier and more elaborate weapons. Teeth of Saint Cerise, for example, were custom-made tools only given out to Children of the Reckoning who had achieved the Benediction of the saint in question (via the bloody murder and consumption of a betrayer) and were rumored to be individually patterned after the Child who earned them. Beyond status symbols, these weapons also ended up playing a vital role in spreading awareness of revolutionary organizations to prospective members as their flashy and elaborate designs were attractive for newspaper reporters to depict in their photographs and reports. 

~~~~~

**“Soldiers is Red**

**Coppers is Blue**

**But ol’ Jack-of-Smile’s**

**A Patriot True”**

_ Found written on the interior wall of a secret police office on the evening of the 17th, along with the sliced-up bodies of three Special Constables. Evidently, even Jack-of-Smiles was feeling the civic spirit during the Revolt!  _


	4. Disturbance Days

_ Excerpt from post-campaign interview with the Unnerved Constable, recording courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History.  _

“Some parts of London were far worse to be in than others if you were wearing a badge and uniform. At first they had us all operating in our usual districts, so if you were in a bad one you already knew it, but those of us that were in the bad ones kept getting picked off so eventually they had everyone draw lots for each shift. And each shift you prayed that you got lucky, and picked one of the good districts to be stationed in. Sometimes you got it, and you could breathe easy, and other times your luck ran out and you prayed you’d make it through without seeing bandages or the Boatman.

In general, Palace or Southwark or Central were the places to be. Lots of royal guards, special constables or other constables surrounding you, prime defensive locations, no need to patrol. We never got assigned to either of those more than once a shift cause otherwise the others would accuse us of rigging the system. Then there was Ladybones, Wilmot, Greenbottle and the like. They were more dicey, but they weren’t too bad after the first day or so. You’d need to patrol and barricade and occasionally fight off a crowd, but you had space to breathe in between. If you got picked for the ones like Wolfstacks or Watchmakers or Fiacre, the others clapped you on the back and wished you luck. You worked in full squads for those districts and you never split from your squad.

Nobody got Spite after the 18th. Not worth the cost.

The thing about being a constable during the Disturbance, that everyone who wasn’t there with a badge and uniform on gets wrong, is that we were everywhere we could be. People bring up that stupid picture or talk about how they were blocked in by a mob and couldn’t leave their home and where were the constables and all that, but we were stretched thin trying to enforce law and order when half the city was going honey-mazed. And there were parts of the city we couldn’t get to anymore unless we had a rifle platoon of the Army in to support us, because we’re out here with our sticks and padded uniforms and there’s folks in there holed up with guns or worse, shooting at us from behind cover. So Concord’s trying to schedule every bobby on the street that can be mustered and coordinating with the other London authorities, and we’re out trying not to get shot up because we thought it’d be nice to have a little law and order in the city, and the rioters don’t give a damn about our feelings on the matter. 

Oh, yes, there were places in the city we couldn’t go to. Not unless we never wanted to come out. The Flowerdene rookeries were no-go zones, and neither were the streets around the Medusa’s Head. There was the New Guillotine’s trial grounds in Wilmot district, and the edge of the Marshes where the fungus cult liked to ambush coppers. The worst though...the worst was the Gallows.

It was in the Ox Tongue district, just northwest of Spite. Already a shady place to be before the Disturbance, but after Wolfstacks and the Siege the area became a deathtrap for constables, special or otherwise. You’d get reports from the officers on the outskirts of the Tongue, but none from within. No reports, no officers, nothing. Turns out a revolutionary group had set up shop in the Flitways over Ox Tongue: the Children of the Reckoning. They’d claimed it as their territory, and they didn’t want anyone else coming in to take it from them. So they’d set up the Gallows.

I was in one of the squads assigned to Ox Tongue once. The Children were a nasty bunch, sir. They’d hide up in the Flit and target us from a distance. Rifles, you see. Damn near all of them carried rifles, hunting ones. They targeted us like...we were sport, to them. And when they’d get an officer down, one of the Children’d come down just like that with some rope, quick as a wink, and string them up. That’s why it was called the Gallows, you see. On account of all the nooses.

Even then, that wasn’t the worst part. Though I don’t like to remember it much.

...Well, I didn’t get too good a look at them, but the Children were frankly a bit creepy even beyond the revolutionary business. They wore these strange cloaks, more like robes I guess. They were always chewing the air or grinding their teeth together, even when they couldn’t see us. And the only things they carried beyond those rifles of theirs were knives. Butcher’s knives. It reminded me of, well... you know, them. The ones that are always hungry. So we were always on guard for them while on shift in Ox Tongue, because you never knew when one of them would pop out at you.

Well, we were on a patrol and it ended badly. They...got Constable Mimsy down, for good sir, but we had to pull back. There was rifle shots going off and we had another officer with a busted leg, and we were going to be down more than one copper if we tried to stay and get Mimsy. So we legged it. But I looked back, just in case one of them was tracking us, and…

Well, I could see a bunch of those Children dropping to the ground, and rushing over to Mimsy. Some of them were pulling out those knives of theirs. And some of them...weren’t. I know everything’s passed and all, sir, but I don’t want to go by Ox Tongue ever again if I can help it. I know if I go, the Gallows’ll still be there... and so will Mimsy, and the Children. 

I was allowed to take a day off for being unwell after that, and then the next day was the Benthic-Summerset Rumble. That was a better shift.”

~~~~~

_ While many of the notable and memorable groups that participated in the Disturbance were organized revolutionaries, the role of the disaffected civilian populace in both the Disturbance and the wider Revolt of 1897 cannot be discounted. Without the riots, marches, and other acts of public protest carried out by ordinary Londoners to occupy constable and Ministry resources, the revolutionary groups would have been suppressed in short order. Some of the more infamous riots and marches in the early days are noted below: _

**The Charley Square Fracas**

The riots and chaos of the Disturbance were further amplified by the Mayoral election campaigns happening at the same time. Angry mobs armed with lanterns, rotten fruits and vegetables, or particularly salacious slurs were common in past London elections, and these same mobs were out in force as much as any other. When two or more of them came across each other, the resulting confrontation could quickly escalate. 

The Charley Square Fracas was one such confrontation, a four hour conflict over the late morning and early afternoon of the 17th involving no less than three separate mobs representing all of 1897’s mayoral candidates. Its cause was an accident, in a sense a product of the Disturbance itself; the marches had begun in separate areas of the city, and were originally contained by the police barricades erected by constables to channel protesting or rioting crowds. Although not intentional, these barricades ended up funneling the mobs into Charley Square, where they were put into direction confrontation with each other. Accounts differ on whether members of the Young Virginians or the Marchers for Peace and Plenty started the fight, though it is generally agreed that the Prophet’s Believers initially tried to mediate before the Fracas broke out.

The Charley Square Fracas was one of the more tame incidents of the Disturbance (its protesters mainly resorted to throwing rotten food at each other before resorting to fistfights, swinging lanterns, and hitting each other with banner poles), but became notable afterwards for both its length, the complex three-way nature of the Fracas, and the circumstances that brought it about. The image of a Shoshona marcher wailing as Mrs. Plenty and Virginia’s supporters brawled on the street - while a constable looked onwards from behind the barricades - created outrage in many a newspaper reader the morning after the Fracas and brought charges of police inaction or even encouragement of the fight. In truth, the situation was more complex: the constables present at the Fracas were too small in number to handle the number of people present, and had been ordered to wait until the mobs had tired themselves out to begin arresting people. Regardless of the truth, the picture continued to be used as anti-constable propaganda throughout the Revolt. 

**The Smashtile Alley Riot**

When London Fell, the Bazaar twisted and warped the streets into foreign, strange configurations so as to better erase its old identity. The result was (even moreso than the London-That-Was) a rat’s warren of dimly lit twisting streets and back alleys flanked by crumbled buildings, the labyrinthine sewer systems below, and the improvised walkways of the Flit above. During the Disturbance, riots in the streets turned into an exercise in three-dimensional urban warfare.

The Smashtile Alley Riot was a prime example of how the Constabulary’s efforts to contain rioters during the Disturbance was hampered by London’s new layout. Initially reported on the morning of the 18th as a mob protesting the Master’s onerous taxes in Spite, constable attempts to barricade and concentrate the marchers into a narrow and easily contained channel led to overcrowding in the narrows of Smashtile Alley, panic, and eventually a full-blown riot by mob members attempting to escape. As rioters took to climbing the walls, breaking through to nearby rookeries or using the sewers to flee, constables found themselves facing violent resistance and stampedes from above, below, and around. This was intensified when rioters disturbed the lairs of rattus faber gangs inhabiting the area, and constables trying to hold back the crowds found themselves swarmed by knife-wielding rats as well as panicking citizens. The end result was a full-scale retreat for the constables, and an early sign of Spite’s abandonment by the authorities.

**The Hollow Street Shakedown**

The majority of rioters during the Disturbance came from the ranks of the working class and the impoverished, but people of every social class and background could be found swept up in the mentality of the mob. While many moral crusaders, respectable secret societies and Greyfields socialists attempted to march without violence or provide only relief to those affected by the Disturbance, others took direct action in their own right. The Hollow Street Shakedown became notorious in the public eye for how unusual its’ instigators were: middle-class, church-going temperance campaigners. 

Hollow Street is noted for its many honey-dens, and it was these honey-dens that made it a target during the Shakedown. While many of the honey-dens had closed their doors during the first few days of the Disturbance, by the 19th some had chosen to reopen for business. This drew the attention of the London Abolishment of Depravity League, a radical temperance movement centered around the active deterrence of what they saw as “societal depravity”: honey, opium, alcohol, raw meat, excessive spices, and other pleasures whose pursuit led to violence against both others and the self. On the evening of the 19th, a detachment of Abolishers and the League’s masked leader Madame Shatter marched on Hollow Street with hatchets and clubs in hand. While no deaths were reported, thousands of echoes worth of prisoner’s honey and alcohol was dumped out or drained into the streets (not to mention the value of the property damage). The resulting honey withdrawals suffered by would-be customers would also lead to the Veilgarden Honey Riots over the next two days. 

**The Benthic-Summerset Rumble**

There are some London traditions that not even a city-wide riot can prevent. While Benthic and Summerset Universities stopped classes and closed in the first few days of the Disturbance in the interests of student and faculty safety, the cricket match scheduled for the 20th was allowed to proceed as normal in the interests of public morale. Play began that day on a pitch surrounded by barricades and patrolling constables. It is perhaps ironic that while great precautions were taken to prevent outside interference in the match, none were taken against the players themselves.

Tensions in both the crowd and the players were fierce. Many of the Benthic supporters and players had come from relatively humble origins compared to Summerset’s; while Summerset supporters were worried about the Disturbance’s impact to their family businesses or favorite relaxation areas, Benthic supporters were worried about their homes and families being safe in the riots. After Summerset jumped to an early lead and maintained it to lunch, the Rumble officially began after a comment by the Benthic captain that Summerset would get what was coming to them “on this field and after it.” A return to play was subsequently interrupted by the attempting bludgeoning of the Benthic captain by way of cricket bat, which escalated into a full on brawl between the two sides. Fighting continued until Special Constables were able to douse the field with smoke bombs, at which point disoriented players and audience members found themselves quickly swept up by a waiting circle of Constables. The match itself was declared a mutual loss. 

~~~~~

_ All three Mayoral candidates during the election season acknowledged the Disturbance through their speeches and their actions, from Madame Shoshona’s heartfelt speech on the need for love and not hate against one’s fellow people to a snide comment by Virginia that if the Constables had practiced better calisthenics, they might have been able to contain the riots. Mrs. Plenty however, as the candidate whose platform rested exactly on stopping the kind of chaos and unrest that was sweeping London at this time, was the most fervent in addressing the Disturbance. An excerpt from her July 19th rally speech concerning the riots is provided below. Archival recording courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History: _

“It’s come to my attention by one of the constable lads guardin’ this here plaza that we ought to be careful, seein’ as how there’s a riot brewin’ up a storm beyond those barricades they’ve so kindly put up around us. Now ‘eres the real truth, the straight up truth and nothing but. I’ve seen the riots out there happenin’ with my own eyes, and the people fightin’ in them. I know what’s drivin’ them to go out there and get pissed and make trouble for everyone. Believe me, I do. You don’t get to be where I am without knowin’ the little people who make this whole city run. And I bet some of you in this crowd tonight, some of you know some of those people what are makin’ a big ruckus out there as well. Maybe some of you even participated in those what happened yesterday. Or the day before that. You know why they’re out there too.

And that’s why I’m runnin’ for Mayor, because I know things ain’t right in London. If things were right, those lads and lasses wouldn’t be runnin’ around the city burnin’ and yellin’ their heads off about their rights. Things ain’t right, and I mean to fix things. But I also know  _ this ain’t the way to do it _ . 

Look at what’s happened to London over the past few days. There’s homes burnin’. Shops bombed. Bodies in the street. There’s so many folks headin’ for the tomb-colonies I hear they’re talkin’ about makin’ a new one by Low Barnet just to handle them all. Sorrow-spiders and anarchists and people flashin’ guns like they think it makes them tough all over the place. You can’t have a smoke without the coppers comin’ down on you on account of suspected arson. Can’t have a stroll and a snog by the River without some sable-clad loony poppin’ out of the bushes tryin’ to show you their manifesto. 

Is this the glorious revolution they’re always goin’ on about? Everyone’ runnin’ around like blemmigans with their caps cut off, riotin’ and destroyin’ and killin’ while London falls down around all our heads? I says that’s a ripe load of nonsense, I does! All its doin’ is makin’ honest folks mad and bad, and causin’ a lot of hurt for everyone. This anarchy’s just windin’ itself up until it can wind no further, and then it will all fall apart. And we’ll fall apart with it too, unless we get a little order and a moment’s peace in London. 

A Moment’s Peace! That’s all I ask for. And unlike those anarchists out there, I know what we need to do to get it. ”

~~~~~

_ “The Disturbance was akin to a cork popping off a bottle of champagne that had been thoroughly shaken: a release of tension held so long that it exploded. This release of energy overwhelmed the Constabulary by the end of the 17th, and its’ shockwaves continued through the rest of the week. By the weekend, the situation had worsened that there was a very real fear that the riots and mobs affecting London would impact Bazaarine trade enough for other Neath states to notice...and take advantage to promote their own interests. Fires and fights on the streets were one thing, but political weakness was another. _

_ The Special Constables of the Ministries and the Constabulary of London have rarely, despite the tendency to lump them together in the eyes of the public, seen eye to eye. The Constabulary looked upon the black-clad Ministry enforcers as elitists who rarely had to deal with the everyday chaos of the streets, and Special Constables had a tendency to regard most regular constables as dimwitted lackeys barely more tolerable than the thugs they beat up. However, when the Constabulary called for help from the Special Constables in containing the Disturbance they stepped forward without question. The fists of the Bazaar would start coming down on London, and the measures they took to instill order were both extreme and thorough.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 3 _

**THIS IS AN OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT BY THE MINISTRY OF PUBLIC DECENCY**

**IN THE INTERESTS OF MAINTAINING PROPER TRADE AND ORDER IN LONDON THE MASTERS OF THE BAZAAR HAVE AUTHORIZED MEASURES AGAINST SEDITIONISTS PLAGUING OUR FAIR CITY**

**ALL CITIZENS BE ADVISED THAT A CURFEW IS NOW IN EFFECT FOR CITY OF LONDON OFFICIAL TWENTIETH JULY EIGHTEEN NINETY SEVEN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE**

**CURFEW HOURS WILL TAKE PLACE BETWEEN EIGHT PM AND SIX AM OFFICIAL LONDON TIME**

**DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOMES. A CONSTABLE WILL ESCORT YOU TO YOUR HOME OR NEAREST PUBLIC LODGING IF YOU ARE FOUND OUTSIDE YOUR HOME**

**ALL CITIZENS BE ADVISED THAT SPECIAL CONSTABLES AND CONSTABLES WITH MINISTRY AUTHORIZATION ARE PERMITTED TO CONDUCT HOUSE-TO-HOUSE SEARCHES FOR SUSPICIOUS PERSONS OR SEDITIOUS MATERIALS**

**COMPLY WITH ALL ORDERS GIVEN AS NECESSARY FOR CONSTABLES TO PROCEED WITH THEIR DUTY**

**ALL CITIZENS BE ADVISED THAT PUBLIC GATHERINGS OF MORE THAN FOUR INDIVIDUALS IN AN OPEN SPACE ARE FORBIDDEN WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION BY MINISTRY OFFICIALS**

**GROUPS IN VIOLATION OF THIS ORDER MAY BE ARRESTED ON CHARGES OF POTENTIAL TO COLLUDE**

**THESE MEASURES ARE IN FORCE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE**

**DISOBEY AT OWN RISK**

~~~~~

_ Excerpt from oral history interview with the Punctual Gearsman, recording courtesy of the Museum of Injustice.  _

“It was eleven thirtyfive, I remember. AM, not PM, I was at work. There’d been a jam in one of the machines, and I was in the middle of switching out the gearwork when I noticed some of the workers had stopped. I was going to tell the nearest one to get back to work, because they were letting the machines continue running and if you don’t attend to them the heat builds up and eventually melts the gears out of alignment, but they shushed me. They pointed, and I was mildly upset at them shushing me and wanted to know why, and then I saw the strikers.

That was my first realization that the Disturbance was happening.

I didn’t know much about what was happening at the time. I didn’t read the news, and the workers at the factory didn’t seem to want to talk to me much, so I never really talked with them. I didn’t mind that because it let me focus on repairing the machines. On the 16th which was the day before I learned about the Disturbance I heard them whispering to each other about something happening at Wolfstacks and then the Medusa’s Head, but whenever I tried to get close to hear more they looked at me and stopped talking. I don’t know why they did, unless it was because I was a gearsman and they were just machine operators. I wanted to hear about Wolfstacks because I had ordered a clockwork bluebird from Naples the month before and it was supposed to show up the day before, but it hadn’t. But because they stopped talking I couldn’t hear about Wolfstacks. They did it before as well, and I asked them why they did it before, but they never answered me. They didn’t answer me the past two days either.

On the day I learned about the Disturbance, there was a large crowd of strikers present. I could tell they were strikers because they were the factory workers on the first floor, and it wasn’t time for lunch break, but they weren’t working. The leader was Mrs. Kowalczyk, from the carving floor. She was good and took care of her tools so I rarely had to fix her machines. They had hammers and wrenches in their hands, and some of them were carrying parts of the factory machines. I remember being upset about that because it meant I was going to have to fix those machines later, but I never got around to it because I lost my job. 

The strikers talked about why they were striking. Mrs. Kowalczyk did most of the talking. I recall their reasons were because of the industrial accidents, the low pay, and that one time the factory owner locked us in because we hadn't met production quota yet even though we were supposed to leave. There were a few others as well but I couldn’t hear them properly. They said that they were just going to strike, but they were talking to some other people who told them that striking wasn’t going to be enough just like it wasn’t enough at Wolfstacks. They said that the other people told them if the Neddy Men could set off one bomb they could do it again, and that those other people weren’t going to take any chances. Then Mrs. Kowalczyk said she didn’t care if she got fired, she wasn’t going to die for twenty five pence a day, and she invited the rest of the factory workers to join them. I remember the other workers agreed. They were very excited, and some of them started to smash the machines. I remember getting upset at that because I was going to have to be the one to fix them if they got broke.

The strikers and the workers who I guess were now also strikers were all talking then, but I was distracted by the machines and didn’t hear what they were saying. Then I remembered the strikers had mentioned Wolfstacks, so I asked them what happened to Wolfstacks because I was waiting on my clockwork bluebird from Naples to show up and it hadn’t yet even though it was supposed to have. 

And then everyone stopped talking.

I remember Mr. Alexopoulos stepping forward. I didn’t like him much because he always kept fiddling with his machine to try and make it work faster but he kept wearing out the gears and saying bad words to me when I replaced them. He said that’s just the gearman, don’t mind him, he’s a good lad but he might as well be a clay man for all the personality you’ll get out of him, never says anything but works all day, he’ll be mad at us for smashing these machines but it’ll keep him out of harm’s way and who knows maybe the boss will give him a promotion for staying loyal…. And everyone looked at me for a few seconds and nodded, and then the workers walked over to the strikers and they all started to leave.

Then I remember that I got more upset, but not because of the machines getting broken anymore. I got more upset because I was really looking forward to my clockwork bluebird from Naples to show up ever since I saw it in that magazine, it was very colourful and had a recording of real birdsong and was supposed to be of the highest quality material for a reasonable price. And it was supposed to have arrived at Wolfstacks on the 15th and it didn’t and something happened at Wolfstacks and no one would tell me why even though I asked politely like you’re supposed to. So I asked it again. I remember that I was crying even though I don’t know why.

At that point some of the strikers stopped and turned back. I remember Mr. Alexopoulos looked at me and then at the ground. Then Mrs. Kowalczyk walked back over to me and asked me if I had heard about what happened at Wolfstacks and I told her no because no one talked to me when I asked. And then she looked around at the workers and more people looked at the ground. Then she looked back at me and told me that there had been this big strike at Wolfstacks Dock because people wanted to get paid for their time and expense fairly and they weren’t, but then a bomb blew up and killed some of them and hurt more people. And that meant that all the workers and strikers here could also be in danger, and that my clockwork bluebird from Naples probably hadn’t arrived because it was on one of the cargo containers that got damaged or destroyed in the disaster.

I didn’t say anything at that point because my throat hurt too much, but I remember I was still crying at that point. Then Mrs. Kowalczyk asked if I wanted to stay here in the factory and I shook my head because I didn’t want to. She asked if I wanted to go with them because she knew and Mr. Alexopoulos knew and the others knew I was a good gearsman and it would be a shame to leave a good worker who knew their way around clockwork behind, and I nodded because I wanted to go with them. I managed to say that even if my clockwork bluebird from Naples was destroyed maybe it was with the strikers who got blown up and was making them happy instead, and some of the others nodded. And then we all left.

I marched with them on the first day of the Disturbance but I didn’t like it much. There was too much noise and people and shouting. Later they let me stay at other places and work on machines and other clockwork devices that needed them. Sometimes they would bring me weird things like arms or golems but they always let me work in peace for as long as I needed so I was glad to help. Mr. Alexopoulos let me stay at his family’s home for a while, and he turned out to be nicer when he wasn’t working. He and Mrs. Kowalczyk and some of the others chipped in to buy me a new clockwork bluebird from Naples after the Disturbance to celebrate the Worker’s Republic. 

The Republic failed but I still have the bluebird. It is very colourful and the song is very realistic and the gears are very high quality and my friends bought it for me. It makes me happy.”


	5. Sable Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And we're back! Disrupted, but not forgotten!

_LIBERATION NOW - Graffiti painted over a chandler’s storefront next to a broken street lamp, captured on photograph taken 23 July 1897_

_“The Fifth City had known revolutionaries since it first fell in the 1860s, but the Revolt of 1897 brought out open sedition on a scale previously unheard of. During the disturbance, no area was free from the mark of revolutionary action. When the Ministry of Public Decency ordered martial law, Special Constables found themselves joining the Constabulary in a seemingly endless battle across the city against both civilians and seditionists.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 3_

~~~~~

_Excerpt from Charley Square public address by the Incendiary Agitator made shortly before the First Shuttered Palace Assault, recording courtesy of the Museum of Injustice._

“People of London, ours are lives of honest work and hard labour! In ages past our ancestors gave their sweat and their blood to the farms and the fields, and took the bounty of the land for their pain! Now, here in this cave, we give our sweat and our blood to the factories and the fungal marshes, and receive nothing but disease and despair! We suffer in silence as we toil, asking ourselves: when will the time come that we are rewarded for our suffering? 

Now is the time, London! It is the time of judgement! It is the time of coming liberation! It is the time where those who have suffered and bled for the wealth and luxury of a few will rise up and say: no more! We can take no more! 

Gone are the days when a person could support a family and strive for a little more in their life, or earn an honest day’s wages with an honest day’s work! We do not own our homes! We do not own our bodies! We do not own our families! We do not even own our immortal souls! Our bodies and our families and our lives are broken to feed the boss's hunger!

Our hands bleed from the bite of the gears! Our lungs are black with spores and coal-dust! Our bodies are poisoned due to petty jealousy! The workers are mangled by the machines they service, the night women are hacked apart by Jack of Smiles, the servants are slaughtered by murderous fops playing games, and the beggars are eaten by rats! 

We can’t pay the rent or have something decent in our lives, so we start drinking! We sell our souls to devils to pay our debts! Our loved ones kill themselves with gin and honey! Our sons join gangs and our daughters throw themselves to the Drownies! Our children play on the fucking chimneys because we can’t afford to send them to school! 

And for what? For what do we slave for? We work ourselves to death for pennies while company owners hoard echoes by the thousands! And we’re told to be _proud of our lot_. We mangle and poison ourselves, but at least _we have a job._ We may not put food on the table, but _at least we have_ _work ethic_! We might die for the rich man’s coin, but _there’s always the tomb-colonies ain’t there?!_

I say, London, I won’t take this lying down any longer! I am a person, Goddamnit, and I will not take this any longer! And neither should you! Nor you, nor you, nor you! Rise up London, and take back our city! For too long we have stayed good, we have stayed loyal, we have done what we were supposed to do and said nothing! And what do we have to show for it? Garbage and horsedroppings, while the Masters and the Royals that sold us feast on the fruits of our labor?

I’m taking back what’s mine and ours! Traitor Empress, Masters, and high society be damned! Come and get some with me, London! Let us take what is rightfully ours!” 

~~~~~

_Excerpt from oral history interview with the Comradely Partisan, recording courtesy of the Museum of Injustice._

“Now the papers, they had it all wrong. Way they had things, we revolutionaries were either one big horde of black-clad anarchists with one mind set on burning down the whole city or we were Mahogany Hall Marchists who were too busy blowing each other up to do any harm. Sometimes, we were both at once. Funny state that, being both too incompetent to worry about and too menacing to let live. Anyways, all of that kind of stuff? Utter rubbish. Now I won’t deny there were some nobheads who shacked up with the Cause who didn’t have a damn idea what they were doing, or that solidarity wasn’t a thing people liked to talk about. But most of what went down during the Disturbance was the people getting fed up, and groups like us realizing that we had the support to act at last. It wasn’t some grand conspiracy or anything, just good timing. 

Of course, issue was with everyone having the same idea you had a bunch of different groups with different aims going big at the same time. So you got some folks, all they ever wanted to do was change things up to be more equal and fair for the working man. But then you have other people, and they just want the world to drown. And everybody is mad, and everybody is in the streets, and sometimes the people who want to drown the world end up acting in the same name as the people who want to make things better. You think the papers cared about that, though? No, no, not at all. Far easier to ignore us calling out the wolves trying to infiltrate our ranks and call the whole spirit of revolution monstrous. 

We didn’t get along with everyone, not at all. But there were times some of us did come together, show solidarity. When I think about how the Revolt turned out, it’s those memories that keep me going. Like the Winewound March. That was a high moment for us.

Yeah, the Winewound March was something else it was. You saw how it was made out in the papers, right? ‘Socialist Riot By The Heathside! Massacre in the Mists!’, some bollocks like that? Well, it wasn’t a riot until the police showed up. Before that, all we were doing was marching peacefully. Oh yes, we were in violation of the Ministry’s orders on public gatherings all right. And we waved our red banners openly. And me and a few others, well, I suppose we were armed just in case the constables tried beating us to the Boatman.But all we were doing beyond that was marching down Winewound Lane, showing we were out and proud and not going to back down when the city needed us most. 

Must have been a good thirty or so of us at the start, before we attracted the crowd. People like a little bit of action and a little bit of defiance, right? So we go marching by, not a care in the Neath for the Ministry’s curfew or ban on groups, with a couple of musicians and our bright red banners and a couple of pails full of sweets for any urchins about. The citizens near Winewound are a hard lot, but even they can’t resist a little fiddle tune and a candied fungus or two. Then the vendors come, because there’s always good money for vendors in a march and even if we’re a bunch of reds they figure our money’s as good as anyones. And that attracted more people, and soon we’re a merry bunch marching down Winewound having entirely too much fun. 

Well, Ministry couldn’t ignore that now could they? We were spitting right in their eye, having fun like that. So it wasn’t too long until we got word from a few sympathizers that some constables were being sent our way, to block us off and start dispersing everyone. Soon as word of that filtered through the march, I think we just started cheering and celebrating louder!

That’s not to say we were in a fighting mood when we saw the barricades they’d hastily rolled out further down Winewound. We’re not Messidorists or Februaristas, we don’t go looking to scrap with coppers. You know what I was armed with during the Winewound March for most of it? A walking-stick that used to belong to my old man. Not exactly the bomb-throwing spittle-mawed saboteur act, you know? So when we saw those barricades, and the pump wagons, and the Clay enforcers, the march wasn’t planning on a riot or anything. Maybe we’d stop in the front, heckle them a bit, stay as long as we could until they stepped aside or they tried to break us up. Maybe, maybe there’d be a small rumble. 

We were dumb like that, drunk on the revolutionary spirit in the air. We should have realized that the Constables pulled to take the street would be only more on edge. That they might be ready to escalate more than we were, if they thought we’d get violent. If they saw a reason to escalate.

_[The Comradely Partisan is silent for approximately ten seconds]_

One of them saw what they thought was a rifle. Bollocks, maybe it even was. Maybe one of our lads was a bit too nervous, or maybe the coppers had an insider, or maybe it was just a horrible mistake, but...it doesn’t matter now. One second we’re jeering at them, the next minute we just barely notice something flying in the air. All of a sudden, there’s this wave of heat and...light, everywhere. And things go to hell. 

Rampant panic and chaos. We don’t know what happened, if someone opened a mirrorcatch box or there was a fire or what. Only found out after the fact it was something one of Mr Fires’ boys cooked up in their labs, some kind of grenade with phosphorescent beetles. But that didn’t matter at the time, we were blind and staggering and the coppers took their chance to charge forward and start breaking us up. Physically. The marchers in the front got it worst, being completely blind and disoriented. Maybe the coppers bleated to the newspapers afterwards about their men being attached, but let me tell you: I knew folks in the March who were killed by those coppers clubbing them to the ground that never stood back up. I know others who are around, but got knocked about the head and will never be the same. My leg still aches on the colder windier days, and I was lucky enough to only get it broken during those opening blows. 

Those constables were out for blood, and we were an easy target. That’s why I don’t regret what happened after.

So we’re in disarray. People are running every which way and shouting and tripping over banners, coppers are bashing in the heads of anyone who looks like they so much as even bleed rev, the people in the back of the March are trying to figure out what’s going on, urchins and civilians and cats are panicking, it’s like the inside of the Royal Beth. And me personally, I wasn’t in the very front but I was close enough to it that I was still clearing the white spots out of my eyes. One of the Constables had been able to grab me out of the crowd, great big brute of a fellow, and he was setting about trying to make sure I would never walk again while I was trying to fend him off with my walking-stick. It was a tight spot, and not looking ideal for us a bit.

Now, remember that this is all taking part next to Winewound Heath. Now the marsh-hunters may say that compared to Bugsby’s Marsh the Heath is like a pleasant stroll around Jekyll Gardens, but you know as well as I how many things are lurking out there in the fog. Well, it was about that time that the fog from Winewound Heath started rolling in, and rolling in thick. And in the middle of the fog, a few of us - not me personally, I was a bit distracted at the time - but a few of us could see shapes in it. Humanoid shapes, some of them. Others, not so much. And at the same time, from above, we all started hearing this massive chittering.

Turns out, our march had attracted the attention of some other folks who didn’t take too kindly to the Constables. 

I know some people have had bad experiences with them, but I like the LBs. You know where you stand with them. They’re human in all its goodness and ugliness, only smaller. And I mean, how would you feel if you lived in a city alongside a bunch of creatures that looked like humans, but weren’t intelligent at all, and there were these giants that just casually murdered them by the hundreds and then ate them? Point being, I can get why so many of them are the way they are around us. And I’m glad we had some LBs come to back us up. Not sure what gang they were, but they were local to around the Winewound area and didn’t take too kindly to the constabulary. Of course, they weren’t gonna do anything but watch...but those things the constables threw at us? As bad as they were for us, imagine what they must have been like on the rats. That got them proper mad, it did. So the chittering, it was them showing their fangs. Right as they were loading their rifles.

Now the other group, well...they were a strange lot. Some of the locals of Winewound Heath had joined this group, called themselves the Unwashed Masses as a...I guess it was a joke? Now they were real salt of the earth folks, had a deep connection to the land. And they didn’t take too kindly to the constables either, because the constables had been trying to stamp them out for a while. So when they heard us doing the March and saw the coppers organizing, they decided to try and ambush them from the heath. Once the constables were distracted with us, they made their move. Brought out some pitchforks and old farming scythes and fungal axes, and brought some blemmigans and fungal hounds along for the assault as well.

Now all of this we didn’t know about at the time. Most of us were pretty frightened, thought maybe the constables had brought reinforcements or a third party was planning on ambushing us both. But when the blemmigans and the rats and the fungal folks ignored us and started shooting and jabbing at the constables...it was like a new spirit got into us all. I remember personally, that Constable was having a go busting up my kneecaps, when a fungal hound got him in the shin and he dropped like a sack of lead plaques. The fungal hound was spitting and snarling at him, and he was going for his club...only an LB bandit saw it and shot his hand! And he was yelping and punching that dog, and at that point I got a little heated and I started hitting him with my walking stick, and after a while when he stopped moving I got it into my head to get away from the melee.

Well, another comrade found me and picked me up, brought me out of the fray. Laid me with a bunch of other injured marchers, and that was the end of the Winewound March for me. At least, until after it was all but over. Had nothing to do but swap stories and rumors with the others, but even though it was grim we were a bit cheerful as well. Because the constables, they didn’t count on the rats and the Masses interrupting their beatdown. It’s one thing to hit on peaceful marchers, another thing to get shot at by rat brigands and stabbed with rusty farming tools. Once some of them started going to the Boatman for good as well, they cleared right on out.

We didn’t intend to make any trouble. The constables made trouble for us. But I’m proud to say that even though we didn’t intend for the Winewound March to become a fight, we gave as good as we got. And without the rats and the Masses joining in, we probably would have scattered almost immediately. So we shared in the glory of that March, I like to think.

After that, only thing left to do was get the wounded looked at and clean up the dead. We shared that responsibility, too. Rolled the bodies of the Special Constables all nice in a line, then went over them one by one. We took the clothes and the weapons, the rats claimed the jewelry and the pocket-contents, and the Masses took the bodies. Very equitable.”

~~~~~

_While revolutionaries used whatever weapons they could get their hands on and constables defended the streets with only their truncheons and the odd service revolver, Special Constables were granted rights to use the latest products of Caminus Yards and the imprisoned inventions within the Ministry of Public Decency in order to enforce law and order during the Revolt. This section showcases several captured pieces of equipment as an example of the experimental developments in urban warfare that took place at this time. Equipment and descriptions provided courtesy of the Messidorist Panopticon Archives._

**Phosphor Beetle Grenade**

Although this specific squat, ovoid glass bottle never saw service as an actual weapon, it is a perfect replica of the Mark 2 Beetle Grenade developed by Caminus Yards and used by regular and Special Constables alike during the Revolt. These grenades are so-called due to their use of a specially-bred species of phosphorescent beetles as the activation method: these beetles are drugged before being fed into each grenade, where they sleep until the bottle is shaken rapidly. Once disturbed, they will enter a state of defensive agitation and begin to click loudly: this clicking sound alerts the wielder that the grenade is primed. Primed grenades, when struck against a suitably hard surface, are not intended to shatter due to the hardened glass and numerous small holes in the material: instead, the beetles inside explode due to the chemical agents built up in their bodies, producing a loud bang as well as blinding light and a small amount of heat.

Phosphor beetle grenades, sometimes called suncatchers, flash-bangs, or blindies by members of the public, were first deployed during the Disturbance and have been an active part of the Constabulary’s and Ministry’s arsenal ever since. They are commonly deployed as a first-response tactic to break up unruly crowds and protests via temporary blindness and deafness, at which point constables may close the distance to subdue targets, or as a distraction for sniper fire or charging opponents. Although claimed as nonlethal, numerous reports of phosphor burns or shrapnel wounds from accidentally shattered grenades have been reported by members of the general public. Caminus Yards insists the Mark 3 Beetle Grenade will address these issues, but infiltrator reports indicate Mark 3 tests appear to be currently focused on increasing the radius of effect and impact of detonations. We shall see.

**Sigil Riot Shield**

While the Ministry of Public Decency experimented with various shapes and designs of shields early on in Revolt, this rectangular shield (note similarities to the shape of Roman ‘scutum’ or Italian ‘pavise’ designs) recovered from the Jekyll Garden Standoff is the predecessor to later standardized designs created for use by Defense Constables. In the interests of public safety, the original Correspondence symbol engraved upon this shield has been broken and edited so as not to be legible; astute readers may recognize from the remaining lines the original symbol for “Aware of one’s reasons for endlessly falling”. Next to the shield is the original cloth used to cover the symbol when not in active deployment. 

These ‘riot shields’ served two purposes during the Revolt. First, both regular and Special Constables observed that while smaller groups of riotous civilians could be safely handled through existing constabulary tactics, larger mobs and increasing militarization of revolutionary groups were leading to higher than acceptable fatality rates (both temporary and permanent) for law enforcement officers. Defense Constables, clad in armored uniforms with shields and bladed truncheons like soldiers of antiquity, could box in these mobs while withstanding small arms fire long enough for velocipede and regular constables to isolate outlying smaller groups and taking riots apart piecemeal. Second, the engraving of Correspondence symbols on shields allowed them to serve as another source of crowd control. While a single symbol will not unduly damage the material it is written on, it is still enough to irritate the eyes when read and understood as language. By covering these symbols with cloth, linking shields with each other and then pulling off the cloth coverings, Defense Constables could force crowds to comprehend full (albeit nonsensical) sentences of Correspondence...enough to set any person’s eyebrows aflame. Having the front ranks of a mob clutch their faces and drop to the ground in pain not only served to disrupt potentially dangerous rioters, but also acted as a demoralizing tactic. Of course, this also made Defense Constables high priority targets for retribution.

**Bladed Riot Truncheon**

The humble truncheon or billy club is an iconic symbol of the constabulary in London, a versatile tool for law enforcement and demonstrating one’s authority. Made of fine hickory wood, a Constable’s billy club can be used to bludgeon or block, choke or push away opponents; it can also be used to shattered windows, nudge suspicious objects, prematurely trigger traps, turn out pockets, or return thrown objects to their owners. This truncheon, originally owned by a Defense Constable and recovered following the First Shuttered Palace Assault, is of a slightly different design than the normal billy club: note the longer length (90cm compared to the default 30cm) and the use of ash wood as opposed to hickory wood. In addition, notice the small trigger mechanism near the haft of the truncheon? This truncheon is actually hollow: when the trigger is pressed, a 30cm dagger springs out from the tip and is locked in place until manually reset. 

These changes to the standard billy club design indicate the riot truncheon’s use as a weapon rather than an all-purpose tool: the longer length gives reach and distance to the club, while the extendable blade can transform the club into a miniature spear (evidently, for when deliberate lethal force is called for). This would have allowed the Defense Constable to fight more effectively with the club when sitting on their horse, or allow them to stay out of knife range in an alleyway or rookery skirmish. The use of ash as opposed to hickory is likely due to the added weight of the dagger blade and the longer length, in order to prevent the truncheon from being even more cumbersome. The blade itself is the most unusual part of the weapon, and its inconsistent appearance on other captured truncheons indicate this may have been an experimental modification that did not fully take off: it is possible that while the blade would have further extended the reach of the Constable while offering cutting and thrusting capabilities, the relative shortness of the weapon as a spear combined with lack of grip further up on the shaft made it considered undesirable next to thicker, non-hollow bladeless variants.

~~~~~

_While the educational reforms instituted during Sinning Jenny’s tenure as Mayor of London proved effective at increasing the literacy and writing of London’s less-privileged classes, it also inadvertently led to a rise in graffiti throughout London. During the Revolt of 1897, the walls of London became filled with scrawls, carvings, pictures and posters expressing pro-London, pro-Revolutionary, pro-Masters, and otherwise sentiments. Some of this graffiti, captured in photographs taken by the Unexpurgated Gazette, are reproduced below._

A wide variety of messages display the tensions present in London at the time, expressing negative feelings toward subjects as diverse as the Masters, the Constabulary, or even the Empress.

 **MR HEARTS LOVES PIGS** [next to a drawing of a hooded figure wearing a constable helmet] - _painted on the side of a Ladybones bakery_

 **MR FIRES HATES UNIONS** [next to a mural of the Union Jack] - _painted on alley wall side of the Blind Helmsman_

 **HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN?** [over a clipped newspaper picture of the Traitor Empress] - _pasted to a lamp along Lusitania Row_

 **NEXT COPPER I SEE I KILL** \- _written on the outer wall of a Hollow Street gin palace_

**1 CLAY MAN = 12 LONDONERS JOBLESS**

[underneath, in much rougher handwriting] **IT WAS NOT OUR CHOICE -** _written on wall of a ship-building factory in Wolfstacks_

 **HANG THE JUDGES TOO -** _etched into the support structure of a New Newgate prison airship_

**FIRST THEY COME FOR THE BOOKS**

**THEN THEY COME FOR THE AUTHORS** \- _handwritten sign placed in the window of a closed bookshop, Blackfinger Street_

**BURN THE MASTERS!**

[underneath] **NO, DROWN THEM**

[underneath] **THE WELL DOES NOT FORGET OR FORGIVE -** _written on a sootstacks in the Flit, near Charley Square_

 **IF SHE’S THE EMPRESS, WHY DOESN’T SHE DO ANYTHING? -** _painted across one of the arches of Hood’s Bridge_

 **MURDERER** \- _painted over the Copper Door of the Bazaar_

 **NO QUEENS,** **NO GODS,** **NO MASTERS -** _written on inner wall of the Prickfinger Wastes Lighthouse_

Some messages drew upon an idealized view of London’s history, England, and the Church to support their revolutionary sentiments. Others rejected their past history, but instead drew connections with similar revolutionary movements on the Surface

 **DOMINE DIRIGE NOS** [above a crude carving of a priest cowering from a giant bat] - _carved into the stonework of St Aegidius’ Church_

 **I CALL THEE TO ARMS IN ENGLANDS NAME** [tagline of poster featuring Lady Britannia as a washerwoman w/Corinthian helm, hammer in left hand and torch in right] - _plastered on the side of the Department of Menace Eradication_

 **REMEMBER THE GOOD OLD CAUSE** \- _painted over the plaque of a statue depicting a Dark-Eyed Admiral_

 **AS ABOVE...(** **THE INTERNATIONALE)** **...SO BELOW** [respectively above, center, and below a painting of the Earth, w/Surface countries represented above and Neath countries represented below] - _painted on back wall of townhouse ruins, in the Forgotten Quarter_

Graffiti and similar acts during the Revolt were seen as a largely revolutionary past-time, but not all who engaged in the act were revolutionaries. There were also a fair share of public messages that proclaimed revolutionaries and agitators to be enemies of London, God, or just good taste.

 **THIS IS WHAT A TRAITOR LOOKS LIKE** \- _handwritten sign above a set of makeshift gallows. A revolutionary hangs limply from the noose_

 **THE BEAST CALLED ANARCHY** [tagline of poster featuring a slavering Pentecost Ape wearing a red ribbon and black cap, wielding a club saying ‘LIBERATION’ in right hand and gripping a shuddering Captivating Princess in left] - _plastered on front window of the New Justice pub_

 **THE SUN WILL NEVER SET HERE -** _typed sign attached to a lamppost with shattered glass, outside the Imperial Opera House_

 **LONDON AFTER LIBERATION** \- _written above a dungheap_

Some graffiti served to memorialize famous figures and those lost either before or during the Revolt

 **RIP SYBIL AMES,** **MURDERED BY CONSTABLES JULY 21ST** \- _painted on the front door of a Tenterhooks rookery_

 **BLACK KNIGHT TO TAKE QUEEN -** _etched in stone near an abandoned mortar site, Forgotten Quarter_

 **REMEMBER WHOSE BLOOD GREW THESE ROSES** [underneath a stylized drawing of an Exile’s Rose] - _painted on the alley wall of a honeyden in the Veilgarden_

 **MARX LIVES! -** _written on a wall of the First Coil within the Labyrinth of Tigers_

Other graffiti served to mark symbolic victories or taunt opponents by those active in the fighting

 **APRIL WAS HERE** \- _written in soot on the back wall of a firebombed townhouse_

 **SEND MORE CONSTABLES** \- _etched on the wall of an Ox Tongue rookery near the Gallows, above a pile of Constable helmets_

 **REMEMBER THE MEDUSA’S HEAD! -** _handwritten sign, second floor window of an Elderwick bookshop_

 **I KILLED FIVE ANARCHISTS TODAY -** _written near the bottom of Hangman’s Arch, Ladybones Road, next to a pile of teeth_

 **FLOWERDENE BOYS BASH UNIONISTS -** _written on an alley wall near St Dunstan’s Church_

And a great deal of the graffiti present in London, rather than expressing any particular support or sentiment, acted as darkly humorous commentary on the times

 **I BLAME THE RATS**

[underneath, in smaller writing] **I BLAME THE HUMANS** \- _written on an alleyway off Blue Ghost Street_

 **ANARCHIST ANNIE DOES IT WITH DYNAMITE** \- _written on the back door of the Parlor of Virtue_

**I WISH IT WAS QUIETER AROUND HERE**

[underneath] **QUIET IS BOURGEOIS -** _written on an alley wall next to a honey den, Tollway Street_

 **WHATEVER HAPPENED TO STATION III?** \- _written on the base of a crane at Wolfstacks Docks_

 **YOU MISSED ONE CHAP -** _written on the window of a Constable station, only one in picture not shattered or having bullet holes_

**FUCK THE CAPTIVATING PRINCESS!**

[underneath] **NOT MY TYPE** \- _written on a garden wall of the Shuttered Palace_

**PARIS AWAITS**

[underneath] **STOP TALKING ABOUT BLOODY PARIS!**

[underneath] **BERLIN AWAITS**

[underneath] **PRUSSIA WILL NEVER FALL RUSSIAN SERF**

[underneath] **NEW YORK AWAITS**

[underneath] **GO HOME YANKEE -** _written in a public lavatory stall near Wilmot’s End_


	6. Keep London Safe. The Bazaar is Watching

_“When the Ministry of Public Decency declared martial law, Special Constables hit the streets in greater numbers than ever before to crack down on any public discontent or chaos that threatened the peace. This display of Bazaarine supremacy bolstered the spirits of those loyal to the Masters and the status quo, but also inflamed the spirits of seditious and revolutionary groups active in London.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 4_

_~~~~~_

_In addition to angry civilians and revolutionary agents, members of London’s law enforcement agencies found themselves facing a surge in criminal activity by organized groups taking advantage of the Disturbance. These groups - many of which included members with revolutionary sentiments themselves - were also given increased scrutiny by law enforcement as part of their efforts to quell the Disturbance. This collection of wanted posters, courtesy of the Museum of Injustice, represents a small fraction of those put up as part of the Ministry of Public Decency’s Civic Awareness And Loyalty campaign._

**WARNING!  
** _[A rough-looking gentleman with a broken nose is depicted chuckling on the wanted poster. His clothes are factory worker coveralls, and a metal sunflower with a grotesque laughing face is pinned to the left breast.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the YELLOW DANDIES OUTFIT, believed to be led by the ruthless ‘CRACKERJACK’ GIBBONS, aka WINSOME STUBBINS, aka the LAUGHING ROBBER.  
** They are wanted by the LONDON CONSTABULARY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: BURGLARY, ROBBERY, ASSAULT AND BATTERY, and ILLICIT SPIRIFAGE. 

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals WEARING SUNFLOWER LAPEL-PINS WITH FACES, as this is the calling card of the gang. They are to be classified as a PUBLIC THREAT due to their suspected involvement in the WINEWOUND STATION RAID. If you spot a suspected member of the YELLOW DANDIES OUTFIT, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once!  
 **Keep London Safe. The Bazaar is Watching.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A young individual with brass-rimmed spectacles and American buffalo check shirt is depicted smirking on the wanted poster. A ratwork pocket-watch dangles from their breastpocket on a chain; tiny paws can faintly be seen gripping the rim.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the RAT SYMPATHIZERS, believed to be led by the traitorous DOODLING ENGINEER.  
** They are wanted by the DEPARTMENT OF MENACE ERADICATION for criminal actions against the City of London, including: BATTERY AND ASSAULT AGAINST PUBLIC SERVANTS, HARBOURING FUGITIVES, and COLLUSION WITH RODENT EXTREMISTS.

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals CARRYING RATWORK WATCHES, as this is the calling card of gang members. They are to be classified as a PUBLIC THREAT due to their criminal activities and collaboration with threats to London’s safety. If you spot a suspected member of the RAT SYMPATHIZERS, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! MEMBERS MAY BE ARMED WITH RODENTS.  
 **Keep London Safe. Stamp Vermin Out.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A young woman in slightly shabby reporter’s clothing is depicted on the wanted poster, writing something in a notebook. The notebook is stamped with the image of a top hat. Two rats with a camera poke out of the top of her right coat-pocket.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal group known as the MONTHLY SOCIETY TABLOID, believed to be led by the dangerous ELUSIVE EDITOR.  
** They are wanted by the MINISTRY OF PUBLIC DECENCY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: BURGLARY, SLANDER, PUBLIC INTIMIDATION, and TRADE IN UNLICENSED SECRETS. 

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals carrying NOTEBOOKS STAMPED WITH IMAGES OF A TOP HAT, as these are commonly used by members of the gang. They are to be classified as a PUBLIC THREAT due to their suspected involvement in crimes surrounding the FAIRBANKS-JONES HARASSMENT SCANDAL, and may try to coerce you through lies and misinformation. If you spot a suspected member of the MONTHLY SOCIETY TABLOID, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! WATCH SURROUNDINGS for RATTUS FABER INFORMANTS. DO NOT CONFRONT.  
 **Keep London Safe. Unlicensed Secrets Are A Threat To Public Health.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A handsome young man with a thuggish expression is depicted leering on the wanted poster. His shirt and vest are evidently of high quality. Three duelling scars are prominently highlighted on his face.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the TAKEPENNY RAKES, believed to be led by the notorious LEONARD MILLER, aka THE DISAVOWED HEIR.  
** They are wanted by the LONDON CONSTABULARY and the BRASS EMBASSY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: MURDER, MANSLAUGHTER, ASSAULT AND BATTERY AGAINST INFERNAL NATIONALS, PUBLIC DUELING, and GENERAL PUBLIC DISORDER. 

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals with CANES ADORNED WITH CRIMSON and WHITE TASSELS, as this is the calling card of the gang. They are to be classified as an EXTREME THREAT to all Infernal Nationals due to their suspected involvement in the JUNE ASSASSINATION OF THE GENERAL-DIABOLUS MINOR. If you spot a suspected member of the TAKEPENNY RAKES, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! DO NOT CONFRONT. DO NOT ENGAGE.  
 **Keep London Safe. Public Disorder Invites Organized Sedition.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A young man of around Longshanks age in worn working-class clothes is depicted smirking on the wanted poster. An unusual crucifix can be seen wielded in his left hand. His face bears slight scars from concentrated sunlight.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the ELEVEN BRANCHES OF THE ASH, LEADER UNKNOWN.  
** They are wanted by the MINISTRY OF PUBLIC DECENCY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: HIGH TREASON, SABOTAGE, HARBOURING FUGITIVES, DISTRIBUTION OF DANGEROUS LITERATURE, SMUGGLING, and EGYPTOLOGY.

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals with UNCHRISTIAN CRUCIFIXES who SPEAK CONVERSATIONALLY WITH NON-HUMAN ENTITIES, as these are noted characteristics of the gang. They are to be classified as a PUBLIC THREAT due to their activities and involvement with ENEMIES OF THE BAZAAR and LONDON. If you spot a suspected member of the ELEVEN BRANCHES, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! DO NOT CONFRONT. DO NOT ENGAGE.   
**Keep London Safe. Your Cooperation Saves Lives.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A hooded figure of indeterminate gender is depicted facing the reader on the wanted poster. The burlap hood fully covers the face; a crimson mountain is crudely painted across the front.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the CHURCH OF THE RED MOTHER, believed to be led by the zealotus IGNEOUS BISHOP, aka the PROPHET OF CARNELIAN.  
** They are wanted by the FOREIGN OFFICE and the MINISTRY OF PUBLIC DECENCY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: MURDER, HIGH TREASON, HERESY, DISTRIBUTION OF DANGEROUS LITERATURE, SMUGGLING, and THEFT OF CULTURAL ARTEFACTS. 

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals with CLOTHES or OBJECTS marked with A CRIMSON MOUNTAIN, as this is the calling card of the gang. They are to be classified as an EXTREME THREAT due to their suspected involvement in the HMS HELIOCANE MASSACRE. If you spot a suspected member of the CHURCH OF THE RED MOTHER, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! DO NOT CONFRONT. DO NOT ENGAGE. DO NOT LISTEN.  
 **Keep London Safe. Ideas Are As Dangerous As Disease.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[A young woman missing her right eye is depicted grimacing on the wanted poster. A grappling hook and set of climbing stakes is slung over the left shoulder of her trenchcoat. A horrible cat-thing looks out from the other shoulder.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the DITCHERS, believed to be led by the mysterious EYELESS VIGNERON.  
** They are wanted by the MINISTRY OF PUBLIC DECENCY and the DEPARTMENT OF MENACE ERADICATION for criminal actions against the City of London, including: MURDER, HIGH TREASION, PIRACY, and SMUGGLING OF ILLEGAL WILDLIFE.

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all individuals with BURGLAR’S CLIMBING SLIPPERS and RED WAXED GLOVES, as these are the calling card of the gang. They may be operating out of the FLIT or SPITE districts. They are to be classified as an EXTREME THREAT due to their suspected involvement in the COLD HARBOR WAREHOUSE MASSACRE. If you spot a suspected member of the DITCHERS, NOTIFY A SPECIAL CONSTABLE or MENACE ERADICATOR at once! WATCH FOR LOOSE ANIMALS. DO NOT CONFRONT. DO NOT ENGAGE.  
 **Keep London Safe. The Good Neighbor Reports The Bad Neighbor.  
** …

 **WARNING!  
** _[An adult woman of indeterminate age in a large black coat is depicted snarling on the wanted poster. Her face is salt-scarred and her eyes are filled-in with peligin; a black dog-shaped mask is held tightly in her hands. A silver brooch is pinned to her right breastpocket.]_

 **This is a PUBLIC NOTICE to be on alert for the criminal gang known as the BULWARK BOGWOLVES, aka the BULWARK BASTARDS, believed to be led by the despicable RYKER MACI, aka the ALLURING FLESHEATER.  
** They are wanted by the LONDON CONSTABULARY, the DEPARTMENT OF MENACE ERADICATION, and the LONDON ADMIRALTY for criminal actions against the City of London, including: MURDER, TORTURE, BURGLARY, SMUGGLING, DRUG MANUFACTURING AND DISTRIBUTION, and OWNERSHIP OF ABOMINABLE GOODS

Members of the Public are advised to take note of all DARK-CLAD individuals with BLACK DOG MASKS and SILVER BROOCHES, as this is the calling card of the gang. They are to be classified as a MAJOR THREAT due to their crimes and suspected involvement in the recent ROYAL RANSACKING. If you spot a suspected member of the BULWARK BOGWOLVES, NOTIFY THE CONSTABULARY at once! DO NOT CONFRONT. DO NOT ENGAGE. ATTEND TO THE SAFETY OF OTHERS AROUND YOU.  
 **Keep London Safe. Public Decency Is Everyone’s Responsibility.**

_~~~~~_

_It is widely known in Fallen London that death is far less of a deterrent to continued existence than it is back on the Surface. Though the exact reasons for why a body in good condition can summon the spirit back from the afterlife are unknown (and the theories around the process hotly debated), it is a plain fact that under optimal conditions death can be little more than a temporary inconvenience in the Neath. This change to the nature of mortality changed London post-Fall, and newcomers to the city are often shocked at the veteran Londoner’s seemingly casual approach to death and the risk thereof (particularly if it is through witnessing a Knife and Candle duel)._

_Despite the popular view of death as more often temporary inconvenience than permanent demise in Fallen London, there lies an ugly truth: it is far easier to die for good in the city than inhabitants like to think about. The body must remain in good condition for one to come back to life, and there are many ways to die that do not leave the body in good condition. Those who see the practice of killing a person as sport or punishment for misbehavior are often content to kill cleanly and with minimal damage to the body; those with truly murderous intent have learned to escalate their brutality. During the Revolt of 1897, there were many permanent deaths. Both the forces of law and order and the revolutionaries of London recorded these deaths in various ways, to memorialize the fallen and incite the living to action._

_The Ministry of Mortality supervised the official records of temporary and permanent deaths during the Revolt, and worked with both pro-establishment newspapers and the Ministry of Public Decency to publish these records. The entries shown here, courtesy of the Ministry of Mortality, are a sample of the obituaries Londoners would have read in papers like the Unexpurgated Revolt or seen on Ministry Public Notice boards._

“On the 20th of July, at Ladybones Road, Sir Collins Dunsmire, Esq. was fiendishly murdered by anarchists through means of arson and permanently sent into the arms of the Lord. His death came while in service to the economic betterment of London, when flames set by the Daughters of Medusa engulfed the banking offices where he worked. He is to be remembered as a dedicated employee, loyal spouse and father, and pillar of the local community. He is survived by his wife, Elizabeth Dunsmire (née Fleming); his sister, Katherine Dunsmire; and his two children, Albert and Charlotte Dunsmire. May his killers be delivered to justice under the eyes of the Lord.”

...

“At Summerset College, this morning of the 24th, Professor of Xenophrenology Gipper Marshalls was declared permanently deceased from violent cranial trauma. His tragic death was no accident of fate, but guided by the malice of human hands; a large stone strapped about with a series of sigil’d plaques, as those sometimes used by the feral urchin-tribes, was cast at him from a great height and smote his head while he was walking the quadrangle. Dr. Marshalls will be remembered as a gentleman and outspoken scholar, whose theories upon the psychology of so-called speliological subhumans invited much discussion in London’s public spaces. Should any have information on his killers, suspected as anarchists from the Flit, please contact the constabulary at once.”

...

“Following yesterday’s bombing of the Greenbottle constabulary station on Childcake Street, three more individuals have been reported as permanent fatalities of revolutionary violence: Thompson Fisher (19), barber’s assistant and Benthic student; Jorge Oliveira (23), costermonger; and Margaret O’Bannon (26), honey-den matron. Although slight hope was held that they might return from the Far Shore despite severe injuries to their internals and loss of fluids, lack of postmortem response led to the final announcement of death earlier today. Thompson is survived by his mothers Abigail and Martha; Oliveria is survived by his father Alfonso, his sister Paloma, and his partner Gabriel; O’Bannon is survived by her sister Willow, her brothers Patrick and Henry, her daughter Cheryl, and her son Finn.”

...

“It is with regret that we report the permanent passing of Lady Mathilda Hildebrand Eustace, heir to the Southern Archipelago Import Company, as of 26 July. Previously reported missing last evening after failure to return from a boating trip, we now have confirmation by the Customs Service that Lady Eustace was captured by corsairs off the coast of Brinehouse. Eyewitnesses claim she was cruelly executed via guillotine and her body left for the zee, following what can only be described as a mockery of a trial for supposed crimes against the people. Mathilda Eustace will be much mourned, for never was there to be seen a woman with more acumen in her mind or charity in her heart. The light of her soul was a beacon for those around her, and now she takes that light with her to the Gates of Heaven. She is survived by her business and romantic partners, Gustave Klimmek and Felicia Charpentier.”

_While not as organized or as uniform as Ministry groups, many revolutionary groups and cells kept track of deaths and disappearances from within their own ranks; the more altruistic groups also cross-checked civilian casualties with official Ministry records for discrepancies. The entries shown here, courtesy of the Museum of Injustice, are a sample of the obituaries published across pamphlets, manifestos, newspapers, and street posters by various revolutionary groups._

“Yesterday evening, another citizen of Free London had their life forever stolen from them by the badge-wearing thugs of the Masters. Comrade Rani Mehta, whose daring actions to redistribute the wealth that rightfully belonged to the working people of London earned them the moniker of the Saffron Fox, was witnessed being drowned by Special Constables in the Stolen River some hours after lampnight. Although loyal citizens rushed to their aid as soon as possible, the fetid river-water and sharp knives of the Special Constables severed the Saffron Fox from this side of the Far Shore forever. They are remembered by their cell-comrades, by their parents and siblings in Watchmakers, and by those whose pains were soothed by the coins they took from the purses of the rich. Mourn the mind that was lost; we shall not see their like again.”

...

“REST IN PEACE MARIGOLD CUTTER, MURDERED BY CONSTABLES. REMEMBER HER NAME. Marigold Cutter was a mother, a sister, a daughter, and a citizen. She worked as a flower seller in the market of Spite to provide food and money for her family, and never did anyone wrong. On the 23th of July the constables tried to arrest her for botanical espionage and conspiracy against London, false charges. When she resisted they beat her with batons around the head and torso until she fell. Her injuries were too much for the Boatman to spare her. SHE LEAVES BEHIND A LOVING HUSBAND, BROTHER, TWO SISTERS, AND THREE CHILDREN. JUSTICE FOR HER FAMILY. JUSTICE FOR WEXLEY, JONATHON, DAISY, MYRTLE, TABITHA, GEORGE, AND WES CUTTER. JUSTICE FOR MARIGOLD. REMEMBER HER NAME.”

...

“Let it be known that tomorrow 25 July, at morning lamplight, will begin the memorial wake for Sybil and Anders Cotterfield at the Singing Well in Heathpike. The Cotterfield twins, who celebrated their seventeenth birthdays just this March, will be remembered as two of the finest hellions Heathpike ever produced, as sharp in mind as they were in spirit and tongue. Their souls were taken too early from this land at the hands of London’s enforcers, who shot them both to pieces upon the Heathland for daring to raise arms for independence and left their bodies for the wolves to devour. Let all come to pay respects to their remains, to raise a toast to their memories, to comfort their grieving family, and to call a curse upon their killers. So proclaims the Heathpike Borough Council.”

...

“JUSTICE FOR THE DEAD! NEVER FORGET THE SMASHTILE MASSACRE! We will not stand idly by while the constables take our lives! We will not forget the names of Johannes Karlsson, Emilia Gower, or Harper Winslow! We will not forget their deaths at the hooves of Constabulary horses and the wheels of Constabulary wagons! When the Ministry attempts to erase them from history, we will still remember who they were! Johannes, beloved local pastry chef, blinded by a copper’s grenade and crushed beneath a carriage at thirty! Emilia, just accepted into Jenny’s school, trampled to death by steel-shod hooves at the age of twenty-three! Harper, who wanted to become a famous cricket player, kicked by a horse and dashed against the walls of a glassblower’s shop when they were barely older than nineteen! Let London never forget their names, or their killers! **Let their deaths be remembered through flames!”**

~~~~~

_Excerpt from after-report with the Grave Special Constable concerning the Doubt Street Standoff, 24th July 1897; recording courtesy of the Ministry of Orderly History._

“Give me a minute to remember the incident in question, ma’am. There were a lot of incidents today, and this shoulder wound still hurts like buggering hell. (Censored for Public Decency) spiderbite… Right. The Doubt Street Standoff. That was proper unpleasant. Speaking personally, ma'am, I don’t think we’ve seen the end of this revolt. Sure, most of the regular crowd will stand down if you give them enough of a show, but there’s far too many out there in London standing their ground. And most Londoners haven’t yet realized that when the Ministry says to obey, you obey.

So, the Standoff. I remember now. We were coming off the Lusitania Beatdown when we got the call in from the courier bats. A prisoner wagon that had just made its rounds was blocked by protesters over on Doubt Street. High priority too, on account of the passengers. Snuffers. Disturbance must have emboldened them, because we were snatching them up all over the place. Anyways, the Ministry thought having a cartload of face-stealing horrors getting loose on the streets wasn’t the best thing, so we had to make sure the transport was recovered and the area contained.

There were supposed to be regs on the scene handling crowd control, but you know how day-bobbies are. By the time we got to Doubt Street, the crowd had already swarmed the wagon. Wagon’s on its side, the horses have been long since been stolen or become food, the Snuffers inside are lying their false faces off about being political prisoners, the day-bobbies are standing nice and neat behind their barricades not doing their jobs in the slightest, and there’s at least fifty protesters in that crowd who really didn’t look too happy to see us. Well, we weren’t too happy to see them either. 

The regulars would have probably been happy to keep the crowd corralled down there until everyone got bored and went home, if we hadn’t shown up. Wasn’t their cart, weren’t their businesses being threatened. But we were Special Constables, and we had a job to do. So we did it. 

It was a simple job in the beginning. Good thing about Doubt Street, it was nice and wide. We sent a few of our own to help the regs with the kettling, then set up command on the east side of the rioters at the intersection of Doubt and Clickerby. Our job was to secure the wagon, so command figured we’d try to break the crowd closest to it with a Clay charge and then follow up with a wedge advance. Of course the day-bobbies couldn’t tell us if the crowd was packing weapons or not, so we got permission to bring in the shields. Truth be told, we all perked up a bit at that. For most of us, it was our first time getting to use them. 

Once we all got our marching orders, it was time for the Clay Constables to start things off. We had two of them attached to our group; Bartleby and Gordon were their names, and as fine a pair of constables as you could ask for. I’d take them over a dozen day-bobbies, any day of the week. They didn’t need shields or anything like that before they started their charge; just their uniforms, their batons, and two point five meters of clay muscle each. The rioters thought they were brave, but it’s one thing to be brave against the regs and another thing when there’s a Clay Man charging you down with a baton the size of a tree trunk. The front lines started crumbling almost immediately. 

While that was going up, we started advancing up the street. Ma’am, I won’t lie: you can’t let emotions get the best of you in these kinds of things, but it felt good being behind that riot shield as we marched up Doubt Street. Most of the crowd was busy avoiding the Clay Constables, but a few of them managed to slip past them to the sides and caught sight of us. When that first Pint of Medusa smashed against my shield instead of my face, I was very glad we’d been given permission to use them. 

Well, if it had been as simple as that we wouldn’t be talking about it now. The Clay Constables had cleared a path for us, and we were advancing up without much serious resistance. We were less than five meters to the wagon when one of the crowd got in a lucky strike on Bartleby. It was...it was inspired if nothing else, ma’am. We were in Doubt Street, and we hadn’t realized that some of the rioters might have looted the storefronts. Even if we had, what could they have possibly done with a bunch of printing presses? So we’re not expecting it when one of the mob rises up with a flywheel they’d pried off one of those presses and slams it over Bartleby. Now it takes a lot to knock out a Clay Man, but that’s not what they were going for. No, they got that flywheel right over Bartleby’s head, and then five or six or them started pulling. 

So now Bartleby’s being choked out by the rioters. Gordon’s seen this, and he’s seen what some of those dockers have done to Clay Men that got in the way of their riots before, when they get them down on the ground. So he went to rescue Bartleby and drag him away from the crowd before they could start demolishing him. This was in the middle of our advance, and we had to pause because Bartleby was flailing and Gordon was swinging his baton left and right and the rioters clinging to the flywheel were doing their best not to let go. We needed them to clear out before we could resume our advance.

By the time they did, however, the crowd started pushing back.

Well we weren’t waiting too long to see what was causing the crowd to push back, because one of the crowd took the opportunity to climb up on the overturned cart. She’s one of those types: a Voice of the Mob, all fire and fury. She had something long and thin in her arms, I remember thinking she’s got some brass balls hidden away if she’s going to charge at us with a spear. Then she swings it around, and it’s not a spear at all; it’s a flag. I remember the flag, yes. Probably someone’s bedsheet once, but someone had painted a big red cross right over the white. And there was something in the upper left: some kind of animal, might have been a dragon, holding up a sword. Also red. Reminded me of the flag of Old London, actually. You know, the one the Ministry kept in the archives after they burned the rest.

We couldn’t see the flag at first, of course, on account of it being difficult to track what was on it while it was swinging around. Wasn’t until the Voice of the Mob stood it on end that we could see it in full. It was almost funny, everyone is on edge and Gordon’s trying to drag Bartleby to safety behind the barricades and here’s this woman on a cart posing like she’s in one of those dramatic paintings. And the damnedest thing is, we take one step toward her and the crowd tenses up. She had them captivated. She’s got the high ground and the crowd is massing around her, so we held back. None of us wanted to be the suicide squad sent in to snatch her. 

Another thing about Voices of the Mob, there’s a reason we call them Voices. They really like their speeches. This one was no different. She knows she’s got the mob on her side, and she’s got us sitting tight in the meantime, so she takes her time with the theatrics. Lots of flourishes. Fist rising in the air, hand gestures and the like. 

Can I remember what she said? Honest ma’am, it was hard to miss when we had nothing else to do but hold the line. The Clay Constables were out of action by that point, and we didn’t dare rush her. Truth be told though (sound of an extended sigh) I don’t think I can recall much of it in particular. The revolutionary speeches tend to blend together after a while. I’ll see what I can remember.

It began with the usual material. The Bazaar strangles us, the Masters hunt us, Her Enduring Majesty’s abandoned us. The Mayor’s a sham, the Constables are all corrupt. That sort of thing. She mentioned the taxes, the street names, the mysterious disappearances. All of this was pretty standard for the speeches I’ve heard before from other Voices, though the crowd was eating it up. That went on for maybe three, four minutes.

After that, it got somewhat more interesting. The Voice started talking about the history of London. Bringing up all the riots and revolts London had, all the different rulers, the Normans and the Romans and whatnot. Fire and plague and famine. Makes me think she might have been a teacher, before she became a rebel. Anyways, the mob was loving all of this. And then she starts talking about secession.

Apparently that’s what the flag was for. The symbol of their Risen London, whatever she called it. No more Bazaar, no more Empress, power to the people and the city. They were going to make London a proper republic.

It was a fine speech. I’ll give her that much. I think she believed it, too. That her and the crowd and all of them, they were fighting for something bigger than themselves. That’s powerful talk, ma’am; it’s what keeps us doing the jobs we have to do here, sometimes. If we had let her keep speaking the way she was, it could have been another Siege in the making. I guess that’s why the order was given to take her down.

No, I didn’t hear the order to take her down myself. But I’m not about to go implying that it was anything other than an order. All I know is that we get told to avoid engaging the Voice and stay back from the wagon, keep the space clear for enforcement of public decency. We’ve got shields up and moving back, the Clay Men are keeping their hoses up in case the mob tries to move in, we have the Voice of the Mob up on the cart waving her flag and riling up the crowd, and then…

It was a clean shot, ma’am. No fuss, nothing drawn out, straight to the Boatman. She was dead before her body hit the ground. Probably hadn’t even seen the gun that did it. 

Was she a threat?

(Nothing is said for approximately seven seconds)

Speaking carefully, ma’am, I assume that she was perceived as a threat. Otherwise, the order to put her down would not have been given. Her words were incendiary, and she was rallying a large group of people in clear defiance of public safety restrictions. It’s not my place to say more.

Well, she was down with that flag of hers, and things got chaotic again. People started screaming and running, like they thought they’d be the next one to get shot at. It was like the Voice of the Mob held them all in a spell, and when she died the spell ended. That’s how we could tell they were just civilians caught up in the heat of the chaos; if they’d been revolutionaries, they would have started shooting back. 

Now, a mob when it’s angry and organized is dangerous, and at the beginning of the Standoff when the Voice of the Mob was leading them we were in danger. A panicked and disorganized mob is still dangerous, but it’s as much a danger to itself as to others. People stopped trying to push us back and started pushing, trampling each other, running away down alleyways. Well, that wasn’t our problem to chase them, that was for the day-bobbies to handle, but we still had to secure that wagon. We got the order to close shields and advance, and this time the rioters didn’t resist. 

Very easy, after that. We let the regs handle the rioters for the most part; kept our shields up and let Gordon club a few of them down when they tried to regroup, but otherwise we secured the wagon and sat tight until reinforcements came in with horses. Got the Clay Men to lift the wagon back onto its wheels, hitched the horses up, made sure there wasn’t any damage where a Snuffer could have escaped. And the ones inside...hah, ma’am, you should have heard them. Got more death threats in that hour guarding that wagon than I think I ever got before in this job. They were pissed something fierce. 

As far as I’m concerned, that was my whole involvement with the Standoff. After the reinforcements and the wagon they sent us off to the...what are the papers calling it? The Panic at Watchmaker’s Hill? (the Special Constable sucks in breath) Panic’s right, nobody said anything about the revs bringing in a spider-council...Right. Sorry ma’am, that’s for the next recording. 

There’s still something about the Standoff I don’t like. Most of the groups we’ve been dealing with have either been agitated mobs who don’t know what they want or anarchists looking to burn the whole thing down.The Voice in the Mob was talking about a republic. 

Now a general revolt is one thing, but secession? People don’t go declaring their own country unless they think they can defend it. And god help us if the colonies find out.

~~~~~

_“The Committee for London Self-Rule was a group of civic-minded individuals, founded in August of 1895, to plan appeals for political reform that would increase the political power of London’s neighborhoods and local districts. Originally composed mostly of municipal employees and merchants from Ladybones and the Veilgarden, the Committee had many productive evenings but produced relatively little in the way of legislation during their first year; even less of which became passed into law. The unrests that spread across London in mid-1896 however - a turbulent mayoral election, the Envoy of Arbor’s visit during Hallowmas, and the excitement of the first Bonfire Night London had experienced in decades - prompted a new wave of activists and concerned citizens to the ranks of the Committee._

_These new members - from less reputable districts like Watchmakers, Spite, and Wolfstacks - were concerned less with legislation and decorum than with action. They advocated for public campaigns, marches and demonstrations over polite appeals to the Masters or letter-writing to judges. While this increased their popularity in the eyes of the constituents they theoretically represented, it increased tension within the group. One founding member noted in a letter to his husband, after leaving the Committee: “They have brought the fiery emotion of the streets into what was once a space for calm, rational discussion...I could not get a word in or a single appeal for reason before someone would speak out of turn, and the whole room would burst into an uproar of pure chaotic noise…”_

_Despite this change in personality, the Committee was a far cry from the militant revolutionary groups present in London. They did not advocate for violence against the Masters, or engage in criminal activities beyond those they argued should be within the natural right of any citizen of London. During the Disturbance, the Committee requested its members to avoid participating in the chaos and widespread riots. Instead, they were requested to bring themselves - and their families, for safety - to the Committee’s meeting-hall for an emergency session._

_This session - along with the debates, the discussions and the document that would result from it - would be the birth of a new nation.” - The Long Warm Midnight, Chapter 4_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the following members of the Failbetter Community Discord for providing suggestions and example criminal groups to fill out the wanted lists! The Rat Sympathizers are courtesy of the Doodling Engineer; the Monthly Society Tabloid are courtesy of JuliaRex; the Takepenny Rakes are courtesy of Voight; the Eleven Branches of the Ash are courtesy of Azoth I; the Ditchers are courtesy of Varn Yggdrasil; and the Bulwark Bogwolves are courtesy of 8BitFey.


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